Reprisal
by katz
Summary: Ranma A/U. A young Mousse is driven to the brink of insanity by the betrayal of the village Elders and barely escapes with his life. Driven by revenge he returns, and all but one are dead by his hand. The last is in a place called Nerima...
1. Part I

Colonel Goldberg stood behind the police line and scowled.He didn't like this in the slightest.It wasn't enough that the terrorists had managed to make their way past the border guards.It wasn't enough that they were able secure weapons inside the country, and then somehow take the Prime Minister's mansion, making him, his family, and a number of political leaders hostage.It was the fact that that the higher ups actually called in for outside help that irritated him to no end._And this godforsaken heat._

"Have any demands been made?"

Colonel Goldberg started slightly and turned to face the leader of this so-called help.He was a tall, gaunt man with lank orange hair, most likely an American from his accent.

"No, they're just holding them there.The Mossad reports military movement from Iraq and Syria.The terrorists are just keeping the Prime Minister and his executives to freeze decision making power while the armies make their move," Goldberg said, loosening the collar of his jacket.He muttered a few choice curses under his breath._It never ends.Damn this heat._

Goldberg turned his head to look at the other man while he stared intently at the third floor of the mansion.His dress wasn't military; black clothing, black duster, black boots.The only thing that might be taken as military was the communications earpiece he wore, but besides that, his appearance was definitely not that of any special forces unit he was familiar with.But what annoyed him the most about the man, besides that he was an outsider, was the fact that he didn't sweat, even with all the black he wore.

The gaunt man nodded slowly, still gazing statue-like at the darkened third floor window while an occasional spotlight passed by, illuminating the room inside and revealing patrolling men with rifles slung over their shoulders."My men are in place.I suggest giving the order soon."

Goldberg snorted.He had seen these 'men.'Boys would have been a better term for them.The oldest couldn't have been out of his teens and all five were dressed like their leader, looking like something out of a comic book.They weren't even carrying any weapons.

"Very well.Your men will move in at twenty-three hundred hours," he said, putting emphasis on the word men. "That gives you ten more minutes of prep time.I don't have to tell you what this means to us.We can't afford to lose a single hostage."

The man nodded again, as though he didn't notice the barb in the colonel's words.Instead he brought a radio up to his mouth."We move in ten.Get ready."

Goldberg stared._Where the hell had that come from?When he looked again the radio was gone.He shook his head.The heat must be worse than he thought.There was no way he could have slipped the radio out and back into his coat so quickly.Even if it was kept in his sleeve there would have at least been a bulge where it was hidden._

The colonel was still trying to reason out what he just saw that he didn't notice that the man had suddenly gone tense and the radio was back in his hand.

"What do you mean you saw someone?Where!?"

Goldberg snapped his head back up."What?What's going on?"

The man didn't answer.Instead he froze, staring at the top of the mansion roof.The colonel followed his gaze and squinted.Someone was walking on the roof.Even with the moon out, nothing much could be seen against the night sky.

"Dammit, someone get a spotlight up on the roof!" Goldberg shouted.An unused spotlight was immediately lit and a beam of halogen light was trained on the figure standing on the roof.

The colonel gaped.It was a boy, dressed in black like the others he had seen earlier.The only feature he could see on the boy was long, black hair flowing out from behind him as he strolled along the roof.The boy didn't even acknowledge the spotlight's glare as he stood on the roof's edge directly above the window leading into the room where the hostages were being held.Suddenly, he stood on his hands, legs in the air, pivoted, and swung in feet first through the window.An instant later, a shout rose up from the room followed by the flash and staccato sounds of gunfire.A man flew through the window, screaming, before he hit the ground with an audible thud.The gunfire had stopped but screams could still be heard.

Infuriated, the colonel turned to the other man, only to find him already running toward the mansion at an unbelievable pace, his long legs a blur, shouting something into his radio.What the colonel saw next caused the words to die in his throat. Halfway to the mansion, the he jumped into the air three stories, headfirst through the window where the boy had made his entrance.

Sounds of chaos swirled around the colonel as armed men shouted orders to each other and stormed the entrance to the mansion.However, he could only stare at the window as one thought went through his mind._Who are these people?_

***

Corbo tapped his pen on the desk, studying the boy standing in front of him.The boy stared back impassively.

"Do you know why I called you here, Mousse?" Corbo asked.

"Yes, sir," Mousse replied."You need help with your paperwork."

Corbo nodded, leaning back and steepling his fingers."Yes, I was hoping you could tell me how one of my agents who was supposed to be fifteen hundred miles away on assignment decides to drop in and disrupt a highly sensitive operation."

Mousse shrugged slightly."I finished early and I was bored."

If he was angry, Corbo gave no sign.Both continued to stare at each other unblinkingly while the silence stretched on.

"This is the fifth time in as many months you've done something like this," Corbo said."Your brothers must be disappointed in you."

Mousse shrugged again."They've come to expect it.I think they were taking bets on whether or not I'd show up this time."

Silence fell again between the two.

Corbo was again the first to break it."What is it you want?"

"Let me go."

Corbo's face tightened._The same damn thing again._"You know I can't do that."

"Why?You know I'll come back."

"Even so, I can't."

"Then it continues."

Corbo scowled and swung around in his chair so he faced the wall.A long moment passed before he spoke again."Fine.I'll give you six months and full access to your bank account.And try to keep a low profile.I don't need the UN or anyone else knowing one of my men are loose without supervision."

He swung his chair back around to see Mousse with a slight smile on his face and a glint in his eye.

"Thank you sir," he said, turning to leave."I'll go pack my things."

"Wait," Corbo said, raising his hand.

Mousse stopped and turned back."Yes?"

"I'm curious.What is it you have to do?"

Corbo watched as Mousse's smile turned sinister, his hand coming up to stroke the scar on his throat.He always wondered where that came from.

"I just need to take care of some old business."

Corbo leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk.The boy was going to kill someone, that much was obvious.Not that he was worried.Mousse was good at it, he could take care of himself.It was just that revenge killings tend to be messy._Too many secrets._

Corbo frowned to himself.When he had found Mousse all those years ago in China, he had the feeling the boy was hiding something, but he never said a word.He just wanted to get away.Now it seems he wants to go back to the settle score with someone.

He shook his head.Mousse was only a kid when he found him.Whoever it was must have done something to him, something bad enough that he still kept a grudge after all this time.When he catches up with the poor bastard, whoever it is, it wasn't going to be pleasant.

***

The village was much as Mousse had remembered it.Small and picturesque, nestled comfortably in a small valley between two mountains covered with lush forest.Children played in the dirt streets lined with old fashioned clay houses while the men worked the fields the same way their ancestors had for generations before them.And of course the training grounds where the women of the village trained in their millenia old fighting arts.Sounds of combat could be heard even from the hilltop where he stood, high pitched battle cries overlapped by the sharp sounds of weapons striking against each other.

Mousse felt one side of his mouth curl up into a sneer."Primitive," he muttered, brushing the dust off his coat.It had taken him a week of trekking through forests and mountain trails before he finally found the Amazon village and his clothing didn't look any better for it.The trip would have taken less time if he had gone through Jusenkyo, but he was not about to take unnecessary risks.He knew only too well the dangers of even passing close to the area, where freak accidents involving cursed springs were a normal occurrence.

Mousse frowned.He could almost see it in his mind, the mist that rose up from the springs in the early morning, the slender bamboo poles that rose dozens of feet in the air, the way the sun looks from under the water…He shuddered for a moment before straightening up and sneering at himself.No time to dwell on the past.

The women had just begun coming back from the training grounds when Mousse entered the village.Mousse didn't bother to hide his entrance, walking casually through the main road with his hands shoved in his pockets.He didn't let the abrupt silence that fell across the village surprise him.

Children stared with wide, curious eyes at the black-garbed stranger before being ushered into houses by the men.Occasionally one of the men would look up from the ground while gathering the children, but would turn his gaze down just as quickly when he thought he might meet the stranger's eyes.

The women stared openly; some were suspicious, others were challenging, but all were appraising.This one didn't look like he came from any neighboring villages; from the way he dressed, he probably came from a large city.City people are soft and weak, allowing their bodies to waste in what they call civilization, but this one moved like a fighter.A fighter who may know a completely different martial art than what is taught out here, miles from civilization.New fighting styles always strengthened the tribe.Of course, men from outside the village tend to be difficult to deal with.If they hadn't already fallen prey to the charms of the amazon they had defeated, there was usually a 'breaking in' time; the stronger the will of the fighter, the longer the 'breaking in.'New males rarely lasted very long, as the whole amazon community makes a group effort to bring them into the fold.Many of the women were thinking the same thing.This one seems promising enough, but there was only one way to accurately gauge his potential.

"What brings you so far from the city, boy?"Mousse suddenly found his path blocked by half a dozen amazons, all still carrying weapons from their practice session.The one who spoke, the leader, eyed him critically while leaning casually on a long spear.She looked him up and down, then smiled slowly, a predatory gleam in her eye._Very nice. Especially the eyes and hair.Even if he loses I may still have some fun with him._

Mousse almost laughed.Typical amazon behavior.Already looking for a fight or a possible mate.He grinned when he recognized who was talking to him.Mei-yin, a few years older than him and one of the stronger children when they were young.It seems she had only gotten stronger in all the time he was gone.She had already gathered a group of followers, all of whom were giving him that same appraising gaze she was.A crowd of the warrior women gathered around them, lining the streets and the area behind him, giving him plenty of room, but effectively cutting him off from retreat.

His grin widened._I wonder when they will recognize me.I wonder if they will scream when they do?_

Mei-yin now moved to stand in front of him, still smiling."What's so funny, boy?You know something I don't?"She paused suddenly, as if noticing something about him she hadn't before.The smile disappeared from her face and her eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer to better examine the grinning boy in front of her.She gasped and her eyes widened in shock as recognition finally registered in her mind.She leapt back as though burnt and desperately fumbled for her spear.

There was a blur of motion from Mousse and he was suddenly standing in front of Mei-Yin, a gloved hand tightly gripping the shaft of her spear.He smiled and stepped closer until he was almost touching her."What's wrong Mei-Yin?" he asked softly, stepping closer until they were cheek to cheek."Don't you want to play?"

Mei-Yin froze when he appeared so close to her and began to pale as he whispered in her ear like a lover."Mu Tzu," she whispered hoarsely."What...?"Mousse raised a finger and held it to her lips.

"Hush," he said, staring her in the eye."Don't try to understand, it would be a waste of time."

"Mu Tzu," she repeated louder and more than a little dazedly.The crowd stirred as they heard this, whispers and similar shocked expressions exchanged by all the amazons present."But you... you're..."

Mousse laughed warmly, as though sharing a joke with an old friend, but his eyes still held the malicious humor that arose when he first saw them."Dead?You always did underestimate me Mei-Yin."He turned his head slowly to look at the women surrounding him, many now brandishing their weapons.He noted with pleasure that most of their expressions were ones of fright and the rest still too dumbstruck to even take a proper fighting stance.He turned back to face Mei-Yin.With her eyes bugged out and mouth opening and closing in utter shock, he couldn't help but compare her with a landed fish.

He reached out and gently patted her face."Don't worry yourself too much over this."He smiled."I wouldn't have made you a good husband anyway."

Pausing to savor the sick expression on Mei-Yin's face when she heard this, he turned to face the crowd."Thank you for your time, but I must be leaving now.Don't worry though, I'll be back."With that he flourished his coat and bowed.Explosions resounded through the village as clouds of smoke erupted from the ground around Mousse.When the smoke had cleared and the shouting had died down among the amazons, he was already gone.

***

Mousse stopped in front of a small house on the outskirts of the village.It was an old house.The paint was flaking where there still was paint and the wood used to build the house looked old, ready to give in under its own weight.The fields behind the house was overgrown with weeds, slowly returning to the wilderness from which it came.He walked up slowly to the front door and gently ran a hand down its frame, as though afraid it would break or disappear if he tried to open it._Home.My home._

He pushed the door in and stopped, looking around and taking in the sight of his home.Everything was there as he remembered it.The same sparse furnishings, the same curtains at the windows that filtered the sunlight and dimmed the room, the same black and white ink paintings with verses of poetry written on the bottom.He paused at one, a beautiful painting depicting a waterfall pouring into a misty valley below.

_...I keep my memories stored in the treasure box of my past..._

_ _

He smiled sadly._My father, the artist._

He moved on, examining everything about his home.It was smaller than he had remembered, but that was to be expected.He paused at a wooden cabinet as tall as he was.He reached up and ran his fingers down to the keyhole that kept it sealed.A set of lockpicks and a moment later and it was unlocked.

Mousse opened the doors and stepped back.Inside was an incredible amount of weapons.Knives, clubs, swords, spears, chains, hooks, and a variety of other weapons were mounted neatly inside.The cabinet seemed almost too small to carry such a huge array of weapons, but such was the way of Masters of Hidden Weapons.

He smiled again, this time proudly._My father, the warrior._

The smile disappeared from his face as he continued looking around.The place was dusty.He looked at the hand that touched the cabinet and wasn't surprised to see a thin layer of dust on his fingers.His mother would never have allowed this.

He wiped his hand on his pants and continued looking around.He was amazed that no one had come to loot the place.But then, considering its former occupants, the Amazons probably thought the place had bad feng shui and avoided it as much as possible.

Unpleasant memories began to bubble up to the surface of his mind, dark memories he knew he would be better off without.This place was full of them.He grit his teeth._Do what needs to be done and leave._

***

The amazon elder Po-Hsin hobbled along the dirt path leading to the outskirts of the village as quickly as she could.She gasped and leaned heavily on her staff as she stopped in front of the house where a sizeable crowd of the warriors had gathered.At over one hundred and fifty years old, she was not as spry as she used to be.

The elder tapped her staff on the shoulder of the warrior closest to her.The warrior turned, eyes widened and bowed deeply."Honored Matriarch…" she began.

Po-Hsin cut her off with a wave of her staff."What's happening here, child?Why are the warriors gathered around the house of Sun?"

The warrior paused and licked her lips, nervously casting glances back at the house as though expecting something horrible to emerge."Honored Matriarch, a ghost has come back to our village!"

A feeling of apprehension formed deep in Po-Hsin's gut.She could see the rest of the warriors were also nervous, sweating and gripping their weapons tightly._It couldn't be him._

"And who is this ghost, child?"

"It is the ghost of Mu Tzu, Honored Matriarch."

The apprehension suddenly turned into a black hole, and she gripped her staff tightly to keep from falling.The younger woman came forward to help, but the elder waved her off sharply._He's alive.__Ancestors, but he's still alive._

"Po-Hsin."

Po-Hsin looked up to see the only other elder in village besides her coming down the path.Lo-Hsin was the youngest of the elders, inducted into the amazon high council a bare three decades ago, but quickly became the most feared.As tall as the tallest man, she was renowned throughout the village for her hot temperament as she was for her martial ability.Her hard, hawk-like eyes caught the gaze of the younger warrior.

"Go back to the others," she said with a sharp motion of her head."I wish to speak with my sister alone."

She waited while the young warrior bowed deeply, and was out of hearing range until she turned to Po-Hsin.Her features softened as she looked down on her fellow elder.

"Po-Hsin, you must not strain yourself like this," she said softly."What would this village do without its finest healer?"

Po-Hsin waved her hand in dismissal."My health is not important now Lo-Hsin."She turned her head to look down the path."Did you hear the news?" she asked quietly.

Lo-Hsin nodded."Yes, something about a phantom returning to take revenge on the village.What is the meaning of this?"

"It's Mu Tzu.He's alive."

Lo-Hsin drew in a sharp breath, and let it out in a hiss."Ku-Lon, you fool."She looked back toward the house."Has he done anything?" she asked softly.

Po-Hsin noticed that her sister matriarch had paled considerably and shook her head."No, not yet," she said.Her brow furrowed."It's strange, but I couldn't feel his strength."

"Then maybe it really is a ghost."

Po-Hsin shook her head."Not likely.Ghosts don't leave bootprints.And if it were a ghost, I would have at least sensed something, but it is as though nothing is there."She frowned slightly, and stared into the distance.She snapped back to reality."But that's not important.We must accept the fact that Mu Tzu has returned, alive and well, and more than likely come to take his revenge on us."

Lo-Hsin nodded."What do we do about it?"

"The only thing we can do.It is unlikely he will listen to us, so we must kill him."She sighed heavily, feeling the weight of her age settle across her shoulders."Organize the warriors.Surround the house and make sure no one escapes.Hide the men and children and tell them no one comes out until the fighting is over."

Lo-Hsin nodded sharply, her hardness returning."What will you do, sister?"

Po-Hsin sighed."I must go and prepare the infirmary.If he is anything like I remember, there will be many wounded after this battle."

***

Mousse stood in the center of the now empty house.Everything, the paintings, the furniture, even the curtains, were gone.Motes of dust floated lazily on beams of sunlight streaming in from now unobstructed windows.He paced the room slowly, making sure he didn't miss anything.After today he wanted there to be no evidence that he or his family was ever a part of this tribe.

Satisfied with his inspection, he nodded and turned his attention outside.He was aware that all of the village warriors had surrounded the house during the past half hour.

He grinned._Time to have some fun._

_ _

_***_

"The demon is coming out!"

The warning cry went out among the amazon warriors, immediately followed by the sound of weapons being drawn.Like jungle cats on the hunt, every woman stared intently as the door opened, waiting to pounce on the intruder.

Lo-Hsin nodded in approval.All traces of fear were gone from her warriors as soon as she had taken command, replaced with righteous anger for their indignation at the hands of this male.There was no way he was leaving this place, ghost or no.

The battlecry that began among the amazons died as the intruder stepped out.He swept his eyes over the amazons facing him, grim as death itself, and they all stepped back involuntarily whenever his gaze fell upon them.Even when outnumbered and surrounded, the aura of danger around him was almost palpable.

Lo-Hsin could only stare in wonderment._This is Mu Tzu?_

_ _

"Let me pass," he stated simply, his voice as cold as the north wind.The amazons, hearing him speak, seemed to realize what they have done and stepped forward again, howling battlecries and brandishing weapons.

His lips curled up into a cold smile."If that's the way you want it."

He stepped forward slightly so that his right foot was slightly in front of his left and leaned back on his heels.He shoved his hands into his pockets."Well then," he said."Shall we begin?"

He was still smiling as the amazons screamed, surging forth as one to kill him.


	2. Part II

Author's Notes:First off I'd like to thank all the people who reviewed.I greatly appreciate the time you took to read the story and give me feedback.Comments, criticisms, suggestions, ideas, MSTs, flames, and death threats are all welcome.

Legal Notice:Ranma½ is copyrighted to Rumiko Takahashi.All characters presented in this story are her property except for the ones I created.

Mousse watched as the descending sun set the sky on fire, while from the east hints of blue twilight began to make its way west.The lake in the valley below reflected the light with an almost mirror like quality.

He admired it for a moment before he stretched languidly and settled back onto the grass._I've never known the sunsets here were so beautiful._He smiled wryly._Then again I've never been able to see them before._

He drew in a deep breath of mountain air and let it out contentedly.There were only two elders in the village and one of them wasn't a threat.The other three were probably off somewhere in another country searching for any martial arts they could learn and then teach the rest of the village.Perfect.

_Perhaps I should wipe out the village._He smiled at the thought._It wouldn't be too hard after I eliminate the elders.Or then again maybe I should kill all of the elders first and then come back._

He mulled the thought over in his mind for a few minutes before coming to a conclusion.He pulled a coin out of his sleeve.

_Heads I do the village now, tails later._He flipped the coin in the air, caught it his palm and flipped it over to the back of his other hand.Tails.

He shrugged and the coin disappeared back in to his sleeve._Later it is._

He yawned sleepily._I have a while before full dark.I can rest for a few hours._

_ _

Before closing his eyes he pulled out his two revolvers.He pulled the catches and flipped out the cylinders, checking each chamber.Satisfied that they were fully loaded, he lay back and felt himself drift.

He smiled faintly before sleep claimed him._Soon.Very soon._

***

"Be still child, this won't take more than a moment," Po-Hsin assured the young Amazon lying in front of her.The warrior nodded once, her face pale and drawn from pain.A sharp cracking sound filled the air for a brief moment as Po-Hsin set her broken leg straight.To the young warrior's credit she didn't cry out, but she was in no position to cry out at her own misfortune.She was one of the lucky ones to have gotten away with only a broken limb.

The elder sighed as she prepared the splint.She could feel the weariness settle across her shoulders.Only once during her entire life as an elder could she recall the Amazon people being dealt such a harsh blow.

She tightened the strips of cloth bounding the leg to the splint while she pondered the situation.Twelve dead.Twice that many wounded and a third of them won't likely survive the night.Not since the battles with the Musk have our people been defeated so badly.

She straightened up, groaning and knuckling the small of her back.She looked down and saw her patient was already asleep without the aid of any herbs.She leaned over and gently brushed a few strands of pastel colored hair away from the sleeping girl's forehead before picking up her staff and making her way around the infirmary.All around she saw the warriors, the Amazon children, her children, lying in bed while the men kept silent vigil around them.Soft cries of pain from the wounded and the dying echoed throughout the hall.

Po-Hsin leaned heavily on her staff as she walked heavily to the entrance.She had done all she could do and it wasn't enough.Not nearly enough.

She looked up to see Lo-Hsin standing at the window beside the door, arms crossed and with a face that looked chiseled out of stone.

Po-Hsin walked up next to her fellow elder and looked at her with concern.Some wounds are not physical.

"He's out there," Lo-Hsin said, tone flat and hard."He's out there watching us right now."

They stood there in silence before Lo-Hsin spoke again."I was so close," she said, her voice almost breaking."I was so close to the bastard I could have killed him if I had not hesitated like a coward."

Po-Hsin shook her head sadly.Some wounds go deeper than the physical."Sister, you could not have known he would use those… things.And what if he had more?You would be among the wounded or the dead right now."

Lo-Hsin's expression hardened even more."He stopped using those things, those guns, after he used them to kill the first twelve of our warriors.It was my own fear that kept me from facing him sooner."

Po-Hsin felt her mouth twist in distaste.That's what they were called, guns.Loud and unwieldy looking things.She had seen one taken apart when she was younger, all bits and pieces of metal fit together to form an ugly contraption that didn't seem to have any apparent use.They did not have the simple grace and elegance of a sword or spear.They were a coward's weapons, made for those from 'civilization' who lacked the courage to match their strength and wits against their opponent.However, despite all this, guns were fearsome weapons, more deadly than anything the Amazons were trained with.And it seems Mu Tzu had mastered them.

"We must contact our sisters as soon as possible Lo-Hsin.They must be warned that…"

Lo-Hsin shook her head."The messenger birds are dead."

Po-Hsin's eyes widened in shock."How did this happen?"

The other elder's expression became even grimmer."He killed them all.The cage was set on fire."

"What about the carrier birds?Surely he didn't destroy the eyrie?"

Lo-Hsin nodded."Did you hear the thunder earlier?It wasn't thunder.The eyrie was destroyed.I don't know how he did it but he somehow managed to collapse the entire peak.There is no way to get messages to our sisters."

The feeling of dread was back in Po-Hsin's stomach, stronger than before.Mu Tzu was more dangerous than they realized.Much more.

"You should have seen him Po-Hsin.The way he fought, even after he stopped using those guns.If he were born female he would have been an Amazon to be proud of.But now…"

Lo-Hsin clenched her fists."We should have let him be.It is our fault he turned into this monster."

Po-Hsin placed a hand on her fellow elder's arm."Sister, you saw what he was like when he was younger.He was a danger to all those around him.We had to get rid of him somehow or he would have destroyed our people from the inside out."

Lo-Hsin jerked her arm away from her sister, still grim and with a look of regret in her eyes.Po-Hsin continued."It doesn't matter now.We cannot call for help and many of our warriors are unable to fight.We must prepare for the time Mu Tzu returns."

"I've already sent patrols on the outskirts of the village,"Lo-Hsin replied."Many wanted to go into the forest after him to avenge their fallen sisters but I would not allow it.You don't need any more patients."

Po-Hsin nodded tiredly."I think I'll go home now.I've tended to all those I could and I must rest.You should get some sleep too."

Lo-Hsin shook her head."He is still out there and I'm the only one that can fight him.I must stay alert for his coming."She looked down at Po-Hsin."Do you need a guard?I can…"

"No, you need as many women out there on patrol as you can," she replied before Lo-Hsin could go any further."I think I'll be safe just going to my home."

"If that's the way you feel sister, then so be it.Just be careful."

She watched as Po-Hsin hobbled outside, leaning heavily on her staff.Age was catching up with her fast.She turned her attention outside.He was out there, waiting for the right time to strike.She felt a pang of regret, knowing that all of this could have been prevented.

Perhaps this is how we are to be punished?One of our own coming back to kill us all?

She stopped before she went any further.Thoughts like that can get a person killed in battle.Regardless of what happened in the past, her duty now was to protect the village.With that, she firmed her resolve and continued her watch.

***

Po-Hsin made her way slowly down the street to her home.Everywhere were warriors with torches, weapons at ready, patrolling the streets and outside the village.All bowed respectfully as she passed but she paid them no mind.Her thoughts were on how she was going to explain to the rest of the tribe how Mu Tzu, who was supposedly dead, had returned, killed many of its warriors, and then disappeared.They now knew it was not a ghost.A ghost could not have done nearly so much damage.

She opened the door to her house and walked in.It was no larger than a common warrior's house, but she preferred it that way.Inside was completely dark, but she was familiar with the place and easily made her way around any obstacles.She stopped in front of the fireplace and bent down, gathering up pieces of flint and steel.She struck the pieces together sharply and watched as sparks lit the tinder.Soon a fire was started and the room was bathed in its cheery glow.

She stood up, groaning, and reached for her staff.It wasn't there.

"That fire's too small, you need more wood than that.Here, let me."

There were three sharp cracks as she heard her staff snapped into smaller pieces and thrown into the fire.

"There that's much better."

Po-Hsin didn't need to turn to see who stood beside her."Mu Tzu," she whispered, her voice trembling.

There was no answer.She stood there, terrified, without turning to face the one standing beside her.Long moments passed as she waited, the crackling fire the only sound in the room.

"Look at me."

She obeyed without thinking, turning slowly until she was fully facing him.He loomed over her, the firelight highlighting one half of his face while casting the other half into shadows.His green eyes glinted as they looked down at her.

His lips peeled back into a grin."Po-Hsin.You look well."

"Mu Tzu," she whispered again."What…"

She stopped suddenly as Mu Tzu pushed her roughly back into a chair.

"Have a seat, elder," he said amiably."Someone your age shouldn't be moving around so much."

He pulled up a chair and sat across from the elder and leaned back, setting one leg over the other.

Po-Hsin shifted uncomfortably, her bones aching from being shoved into the chair."What do you want Mu Tzu?" she asked.

Mousse's grin was replaced by a look of disappointment."After all this time, and that's all you can say to me?"He turned his head away."I though you would have at least offered me some tea," he said sadly.

Po-Hsin began to speak again but was cut off by a raised hand from Mousse."No, no, that's alright, I'll answer your question.I'm a guest in your home so it's the least I can do."

Suddenly he was out of his seat and in front of Po-Hsin, hands gripping the armrests with his face inches from hers.

"I want to kill you," he whispered, his eyes burning with a hatred so intense Po-Hsin could feel it on her skin."All of you.I want the streets to flow with the blood of the Amazons.I want to burn this pathetic village to the ground and piss on its ashes.I want any evidence that the Amazon people ever existed to be wiped off the face of this planet.What I want is your total and utter extinction."

Po-Hsin shuddered as realization dawned on her.She feared that Mu Tzu had gone mad.It would explain his actions and in fact, she fully expected him to have snapped, going through what he had.But now she saw something that truly terrified her.He was completely, frighteningly sane.He hated her and the Amazons with the passion of a madman but had somehow managed to keep his mind intact.

"How did it feel," he asked, still close enough so she could feel his breath on her face."How did it feel when you took my life from me?Did you feel relieved?Proud, that you removed a threat from your disgusting way of life?Did you believe you were doing the right thing?"

Po-Hsin couldn't look away.The sheer hate in his eyes kept her transfixed as well as if he had stabbed her through with a spear.

He stood up slowly, a sneer forming on his face. "I thought as much."

Po-Hsin watched in horror as he pulled out a number of small knives from his coat.She said the only thing she could think of before he lifted her up by the front of her robe.

"Your hate will consume you in the end, Mu Tzu."

He paused and he lowered his knife, a thoughtful expression on his face.Then he smiled."Perhaps Elder Po-Hsin.But not before I take back what is mine."

***

Lo-Hsin stood in front of Po-Hsin's house and knocked again.She let out a frustrated sound.One of the injured warriors had started screaming and thrashing and wouldn't stop.She herself had only rudimentary knowledge of healing herbs, and she knew nothing of how to treat a patient.Finally fed up with waiting she opened the door.

What immediately hit her was the smell.Blood.

She hurried in and stopped, her heart pounding, and quickly searched the room.The fire had died down, casting a dim light that only left flickering shadows rather than illumination.

She waited tensely, searching the room and listening for any intruder.

She moved forward slowly, eyes and ears straining to sense anything out of the ordinary.The scent of blood was getting stronger.She stopped when her foot touched something.She cast her gaze down and frowned.On the floor was a pile of something she didn't recognize.She nudged it slightly with her foot and grimaced.It was soft and glistened in the dim firelight.

She crouched down to get a closer look and then recoiled in horror.It was a pile of entrails.She raised her head up and a scream began to form in her throat.Po-Hsin was on the ceiling, multiple knives driven through her limbs to keep her pinned and her midsection cut open to let her innards fall to the floor.Her eyes held the glaze of death but her face was still contorted in the same excruciating pain she must have felt before she died.

Lo-Hsin tripped while scrambling back, trying to escape the horror that she found.She landed on her back, sprawled and looking up.A shadow detached itself from the wall and stood over her, turning into the form of Mu Tzu.

Her eyes widened in alarm as he smiled coldly."Goodnight Gracie," he said, bringing his fist down on her face.

***

Lo-Hsin awoke to the sound of rain.She blinked, wondering if it was all just a terrible nightmare.A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room, revealing the smiling face of Mu Tzu hovering above her.

She snarled, leaping from the bed and into a fighting stance.Her eyes widened in surprise as she realized was still looking down on her.The surprise quickly turned to horror when she realized she couldn't move.

She tried frantically to move her body but it would not follow her orders.What's happening!?

Mu Tzu smiled smugly."I suppose you're wondering how I did this."

He leaned forward, a small vial in his hand."This is atracurium," he said."It is a derivative of curare.Unlike curare, however, it is better suited as an anesthetic, especially if you want your patient fully aware during the procedure."

"Don't worry," he continued, seeing the look of fear in her eyes."I'm not going to do to you what I did to Po-Hsin.I'm running out of time and I must hurry."

He pulled a round object out of his sleeve and held it in front of her."Do you know what this is?This is what is called a fragmentation grenade.Would you like to know how it works?Okay then.It normally works by pulling the pin and throwing it at the enemy.It then explodes.However it's not the explosion that usually kills them.It's the jagged pieces of metal that fly out when it explodes that get them."

He began tossing it from one hand to another."I modified this one so that an electric charge would set it off."

Lo-Hsin followed him with her eyes, the only part of her body she could control.She watched as he stood up and tied the grenade to a wire suspended directly above her head.Sweat began to pour down her face as she watched him move to the foot of the bed.The wire ran from there to the ceiling, which was in turn attached to the grenade.

Suddenly, numbers lit up from the foot of her bed.There was a digital display set on a tripod, the numbers shining with a red light.He pressed something on the display and moved back to the side of the bed.

"In three minutes that thing is going to start," he said."I'll assume you know basic arithmetic in spite of your wondrous education here in this primitive village so let me explain.It's going to randomly choose a number between one and one hundred.When it hits a prime number the grenade above you will explode.Then you will die."

Lo-Hsin desperately tried to move but all she could manage was a noise in her throat.

Mu Tzu only smiled at her impotent struggling.He crouched down until his head was by hers.

"Before I leave, I just want you to know that I'm not done yet.After I'm done hunting down the other elders, I'm coming back to destroy this town.Take this thought with you before you go to hell."

He stood and turned to leave but then stopped and turned back around."By the way is it alright if I take these," he asked, dangling two small silver medallions in front of her face."You know, as souvenirs for old times' sake."

In spite of the anesthetic, Lo-Hsin almost screamed.The medallions were symbols of authority for the elders, passed down for countless generations and only earned through the most demanding of trials.To have this monster in possession of them…

Mu Tzu smiled."Really?It's all right?That's great.Well, I'll be seeing you around.Later."

Lo-Hsin could only watch as he walked out the door.That little bastard!When I get out of here…

A beep from the foot of her bed stopped her thoughts.Sweat began pouring down her face as she watched in terror as the screen blinked a few times before displaying numbers.

…8…24…35…14…58…72…75…

***

Mousse once again stood on the hill overlooking the village.Many small points of torchlight could be seen gathered around a single house.

He smiled coldly.I guess they found the bodies.

He pulled out a watch and began counting down in his mind.3…2…1…

An explosion ripped through the night air, followed by the sound of rocks tumbling down the mountain, piling up at the entrance to the village.He turned and made his way back through the wilderness. With their birds dead and the main road cut off the Amazons won't be able to warn the elders before it's too late.

Mousse looked down at the piece of paper, written in Po-Hsin's hand.First stop, Tibet.


	3. Part III

Author's Note: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed

Author's Note: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed. It's nice to know my work is being appreciated. I know the story is going a little slow, and after reading some of the reviews I know you'd all like to have more information about the plot, but the only thing I can say is to be patient. All will be revealed in time.

Legal Notice: Ranma ½ is copyrighted to Rumiko Takahashi. All characters portrayed are her property except for the ones I created.

Mousse watched with mild curiosity as a group of construction workers busied themselves repairing the building across the street from where he sat. The building was unremarkable, plain brick with many windows and porches; an apartment most likely. What caught his attention was the way it was being repaired. The workers were all over it, on the roof, on the ground, and inside. It didn't look like a gas main exploded, there was no evidence of a fire and the damage was too sporadic. There were no reports of an earthquake in the recent news and the foundation of the building didn't look like it was damaged. It was as though someone had jumped all over it while smashing the walls with a large hammer. Buildings in the immediate area surrounding the apartment were damaged in the same way, along with parts of the sidewalk and street. Odd.

Putting down the newspaper he finished reading, Mousse studied his surroundings one more time. Nerima seemed normal enough. Mothers chatted with each other while their young children played in the park, groups of teenagers loitered around the various shops lining the road, and salarymen were getting off for their lunch break. His attire earned him some glances, but nothing else. The inhabitants gave him a brief look and went back to whatever they were doing, as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

Mousse leaned back against the bench and frowned. There was something strange about Nerima. There was a tension in the air, as though everyone who lived there were holding their breath, expecting something to happen. The closest thing he could compare it to were areas that were prone to attacks by terrorists. And seeing the people so seemingly carefree about it did little to ease his mind.

Mousse stood up and started walking, throwing the newspaper into a nearby trashcan. The local news told him nothing. He snorted. He never did like this country. The people were nice enough, even if the older ones tended to be xenophobic, but the government was outright insulting to foreigners. He grimaced as he remembered the embarrassing situation at customs involving the metal detector and his detention in one of their holding facilities. After a little friendly persuasion the officials were kind enough to let him go without reporting the incident, but something told him his stay would go along much smoother if he just took the time to create a fake persona in the Japanese national database.

A low rumbling in the distance made him look up, as drops of rain fell on his face. Dark thunderheads covered the sky ominously while jagged bolts of lightning flashed in the distance. The sky was clear a moment ago. He looked at the inhabitants and once again they acted as though nothing were amiss, and simply made their way to cover.

_This place is getting to me_, he thought. He checked both sides of the street looking for cars before he passed. There were none. That was also strange about Nerima. As soon as he entered the ward it seemed that all cars simply disappeared. He had not seen one car or any other vehicle since he came here.

The rain was coming down in torrents by the time he made it to cover. He stood alone under the awning of a nearby shop, thinking about all he had seen, when he heard a cry of dismay. He turned his head to see a woman in the rain dressed in a traditional kimono desperately trying to keep her balance on one foot while holding a long, curved object wrapped in cloth and a bag of groceries.

Mousse watched detachedly for a moment, analyzing what he was seeing, before walking up to the woman and steadying her with a hand.

"Are you alright ma'am?" he asked.

She looked up at him, grateful for the support. "Yes, thank you young man. Oh dear, I seem to have lost my slipper back there."

Mousse walked back and retrieved the slipper. "Let me hold those for you while you put that on, ma'am," he said. She smiled thankfully and handed him the bag and the bundle while she put her slipper back on.

They made their way back under the awning just as the rain began to come down even harder. Mousse set his burden down and stood, combing his wet hair back away from his face with his fingers. He held up a lock of wet hair. It would take a while for it to dry.

"Thank you again for your help, young man." The woman smiled.

Mousse smiled back slightly. She was older than him, maybe in her mid to late thirties, but still very attractive, with red hair that was so rare in Asian people put up in a bun.

"It was my pleasure, ma'am," he said, bowing.

"My, how polite!" She laughed. "Oh by the way, is this yours? I found it on the ground."

She held a small silver medallion in front of him. Mousse quickly felt at the small braid tied in his hair, feeling one of them was missing.

"Yes, thank you ma'am," he said, taking it from her and tying it with the other three medallions in the braid.

"Those are very nice," she said, admiring the elaborately engraved discs.

"Thank you, ma'am. They were a present from my grandmother in China," he replied, flicking them with a finger.

"Really? Did you live there? Your Japanese is very good so I thought you were from around here," she asked, untying her hair and letting it fall naturally so it could dry out.

He shook his head. "I was born there, but moved to America when I was young with my uncle. I'm just here in Japan to see an old friend of mine. Do you live nearby, Mrs.…?"

"Oh of course, I'm sorry," she apologized. "My name is Saotome Nodoka."

"It's a pleasure meeting you Mrs. Saotome," he said, bowing again. "My name is Sun Mu Tzu."

"Please Mousse, there's no need to be so polite," she laughed. "Call me Nodoka."

Mousse smiled. Even if she did mangle his name like most Japanese, he didn't mind it so much.

Nodoka looked out into the rain and sighed. "I was hoping to make it home on time to prepare lunch. I guess they'll just have to go hungry for a while."

"If it's an umbrella you need…" He made a quick gesture with his hands and an umbrella appeared out of thin air.

Nodoka clapped her hands delightedly. "What a wonderful trick Mousse! Was your uncle also a magician?"

Mousse shook his head. "No, my father taught me that." He paused for a moment before finally coming to a decision. "Here, you hold the umbrella and I'll carry your belongings."

"Oh no Mousse, you've already helped so much and…"

"I insist Mrs. Saotome," he said, handing her the umbrella and picking up the grocery bag and the wrapped bundle. "Besides, I don't think you can carry that umbrella and these things at the same time."

"Well, if it's not too much trouble for you…"

"No trouble at all. There's still some time before I have to meet my friend, so I'll just help you to your house and be on my way."

"Okay, but stay close under the umbrella, I don't want you getting wet and catching a cold."

Mousse only half listened to Nodoka talk as they walked through the rain. His attention was focused on the sword he was carrying. He knew it was a sword the moment he saw it, though it was wrapped in cloth. As soon as he held the bundle he knew it was a good one too, not one of those stainless steel pieces of crap that pseudo martial arts companies sell out of catalogues, but a real sword, forged by a master. He wondered briefly why anyone would carry a sword around like that, but then again, in a place like this he supposed no one could blame her.

"Mousse?"

Mousse blinked, startled. "Sorry ma'am, I drifted off there for a second. You were saying?"

"I was just saying how much you remind me of my son. Are you a martial artist?"

Mousse stumbled for a moment, but quickly recovered his balance. _Does she know? _"Why do you say that Mrs. Saotome?"

"I told you Mousse, call me Nodoka," she chided him laughingly. "I don't know. There's just something about you that reminds me of Ranma and all the other martial artists around here. It's like an aura around you that's different from other people. So are you a martial artist?"

He relaxed. "Well, I've had some training, but I don't think it's enough to actually call me a martial artist," he said. "So, your son's name is Ranma?"

"Yes, he's around your age I think," she said. "Would you like to meet him, I'm sure you two would get along fine. Maybe if you still have time you'd like for him to teach you some martial arts? He's very good."

"Maybe I would," he said, smiling slowly. The idea of a friendly sparring match, even if his opponent was hopelessly outclassed, appealed to him. "Yes, I think I'd like that."

A few more minutes of idle conversation and walking passed by before Nodoka stopped. In front of them was a large dojo built in the old fashion of the days of the samurai. In other words, it was a small fortress. High walls at least meter taller than Mousse surrounded the perimeter and a large, wooden double-door gate lay open before them. Mousse could see a large house and lawn, even by western standards, in front of him and an even larger training hall to the right.

"Here we are," Nodoka said cheerily.

Mousse glanced at the wooden sign nailed to the wall. _Tendo School of Anything Goes Martial Arts._

"You live here with the Tendos?" he inquired.

"Yes, they're close friends of the family," she replied with the same cheery voice. "They are letting us stay here until my home is repaired."

Mousse briefly thought about the apartment he saw earlier, but before he could ask about it Nodoka was already speaking.

"Come on Mousse, we shouldn't stand out in the rain like this!"

The interior of the house was just as spacious as it looked outside, easily large enough to fit two families.

"Hello?" Nodoka called, frowning when no one answered. She turned back to Mousse, who had set down the bundles to remove his boots. "It seems no one is here yet. That gives me time to cook, but I was hoping to introduce you to everyone. Oh, please Mousse, let me get those."

Mousse shook his head, removing the last boot and picking the groceries and sword back up. "No it's alright, I'll just put these in the kitchen and I'll be on my way."

"No, I'll get those Mousse. You go upstairs to the bathroom, it's the first door on the left," she said, taking them from his arms.

"But ma'am…"

"No buts, Mousse. Look at you, you're soaking wet! Were you staying under the umbrella like I told you?" She gave him a stern look.

"Well, the umbrella was kind of small, and I didn't want to crowd you…" Mousse trailed off.

"You shouldn't have worried about that, Mousse. I wouldn't be a good hostess if I let a guest catch a cold, now would I?" she asked.

"I guess not ma'am, but…"

"Good, now go upstairs and dry off. I'll go prepare some tea for you," she said, turning and walking into the kitchen.

Mousse stood there for a moment, slightly confused over what just happened. Being fussed over as though he were still a child was a strange experience. He hadn't been treated like that since… A pained expression passed across his face. _Best not to think about it._

He trudged up the stairs, trying to focus his attention on his surroundings rather than his memories. As neat and clean as the place was, spotless actually, he could see that parts of the walls and floor were made of newer material than the rest, as though they were broken and then repaired on a regular basis.

_Mean termites they got around here._ He thought to himself.

The bathroom was large, like the rest of the house, with a tile floor that depressed slightly towards a drain in the middle. Mousse frowned slightly as he looked at himself in the mirror. His long hair was plastered to the side of his head and shoulders and his coat was dripping water.

He shed his coat and rubbed the hem of it between his fingers. The material was completely soaked through. His solid black, longsleeve shirt and black pants were also wet.

_Might as well change while I'm here. _He reached in and pulled out a matching set of dry black clothes, with an oilskin version of the coat he was holding. After drying his hair with a nearby towel, he peeled off his wet shirt and pants and toweled off any water left on his body. He put on the dry clothing and stuffed the wet ones into his coat. Pulling out a comb, he faced the mirror and proceeded to straighten out his hair. It was then that he noticed the girl in the bathtub.

Mousse stared, not sure if he was seeing right and wiped the mirror with his hand. She was still there. She was pretty, with short, neatly clipped brown hair ending just above the ears. She stared back at him with half-lidded eyes, an analytical expression on her face. Her eyes moved over him up and down once and her lips curled up in a slight smile.

Mousse stood there, frozen in mid-comb, still not sure what was happening. _Aw, shit._

He opened his mouth to apologize and say he would leave right now, but he didn't get the chance. "Can you hand me a towel?" she asked.

Mousse blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said, 'Can you hand me a towel?' You used mine," she said, wading forward until she could put her arms over the edge of the tub. She was still smiling.

"Oh, ah, sure," he stammered, and opened the towel closet. He pulled out a towel and turned back, keeping his eyes carefully averted this time. "Do you just want me to leave it here?"

"Give it to me," came his response.

Mousse hesitated, startled, but then swallowed and walked forward with the towel held out in front of him, keeping his eyes away and on the ground.

"Thank you," she said as she took the towel from him. Then she stood up.

Mousse almost choked as he caught a glimpse of her nude form from the corner of his eye. He flushed and immediately turned around, trying to remember how to walk to the exit. His ears caught the sound of humming as the girl slowly dried herself off.

After what seemed to be an eternity, she stopped humming and walked to the door. He looked up to see if she was gone and instead got a good look at the backside of her slim form, the towel hugging her curves and revealing long, slender legs.

When she was finally out of sight, Mousse let his breath out in a rush of air. He didn't realize he was holding it.

He stood there for a moment, trying to comprehend what happened, but then clenched his teeth and shook his head. He turned to face the mirror. He couldn't believe how easily he had been caught off guard. After recovering his composure, he combed out his hair and straightened his coat. He looked into the mirror on last time, making sure everything was perfect, before heading down.

The girl was in the living room lying on the floor, an open magazine in front of her. He paused as she glanced up. She looked at him for a brief moment, as if merely noting his presence, before turning her attention back to the magazine.

He stood there, unsure of what to do, when Nodoka came out of the kitchen.

"There you are Mousse." She smiled. "Was everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything was good," he replied. He glanced at the girl and found her looking up from her magazine and staring at him.

"Good, good," Nodoka said. "By the way Mousse, have you met Nabiki?"

"We've met, Auntie," the girl said, her eyes glinting as she looked at him.

Silence fell between the three. Mousse stood stock still while Nabiki continued staring at him. Nodoka got a thoughtful look in her eye.

"Well then, I'll just leave you two here while I go dry off," Nodoka said, and went up the stairs.

Mousse continued standing while Nabiki smiled. "Are you going to stand there all day?" she asked.

Mousse started, then shook his head and sat in front of her a good distance away. Nabiki sat up with her legs tucked under her and moved a little closer to him.

"That was a nice show you put on there Mousse," she said, a grin on her face. "You do parties?"

Mousse's face turned a deep red. He knew she wasn't talking about the way he pulled all those clothes out of his coat.

_Next time, remember to wear boxers,_ he thought to himself.

He cleared his throat. "I'm really sorry about that Miss Tendo, it was…" he started.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about that Mousse, it happens all the time around here. And call me Nabiki."

His eyes widened in surprise. "It does? Well, still I want to apologize for intruding on your bath."

"I said don't worry about it, it's alright." She leaned forward and smiled wickedly. "Besides, the floorshow more than made up for it."

This time so much blood rushed to Mousse's face he thought his head was going to explode.

"You're a martial artist," Nabiki said, more statement than question.

Mousse started. "You can tell?"

"With a body like that, you're either a martial artist or an Olympic athlete," she said blandly. "And since you're here in Nerima, I'm betting you're a martial artist."

"Okay, so what if I am," he said a little suspiciously, not minding her reference to the incident in the bathroom. If she knew what was going on in this place…

"It means you must want to see Ranma," she replied.

"Why would I want to see Ranma? Is he important?" he asked.

A surprised expression flitted across Nabiki's face before settling back into her normal appraising one. "You mean you don't know who Ranma is?" she asked, a hint of incredulousness in her voice.

When Mousse shook his head she stared at him for a moment then shrugged and pulled something out of her pocket. "My business card. You'll be needing it."

Mousse took it and read the inscription. _Tendo Information Services._

"My number's on the back," she said. "If you need to know anything about anybody, just call."

Mousse looked at it confusedly before making it disappear in his sleeve. It might be good to have an informant in a place like this.

"Can you tell me something now?" he asked.

She paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Sure, why not. You didn't see my show so I suppose I owe you something."

"Alright, I just need to…," he began but paused as he went over what he just heard. "Did you say 'your show?'"

"Sure," she said, grinning. "I figured one good turn deserved another so I thought I'd return the favor. Since you didn't look I think I still owe you."

"Oh," was all Mousse could manage. His face was so hot he wondered why his hair hadn't caught on fire yet. He coughed, and then continued. "So anyway, do you know where I can find Khu Lon?"

"I suppose you mean Cologne, the Amazon," Nabiki said. All humor disappeared to be replaced by a cool, businesslike attitude.

"Yes," Mousse said, abruptly leaning forward, a feverish gleam in his eyes. "Do you know where I can find her?"

Nabiki leaned back, surprised at his sudden change in behavior and a little frightened at the look in his eye. "Yeah, she's at the Cat Café. It's about three blocks down the road and to the left."

Mousse nodded and smiled coldly, his hand reaching up to touch his throat. "Thank you very much, Nabiki."

Nabiki nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. He wasn't looking at her now, he just sat there with a strange look in his eye and his hand to his throat.

At that moment Nodoka came down the stairs, dry and dressed in a new kimono.

Mousse stood up as she came in. He bowed. "Thank you for your hospitality, Nodoka, but I'm afraid I must be going. I don't want to be late."

"Are you sure you can't stay for a while Mousse?" Nodoka asked, disappointed. "Just for a cup of tea?"

Mousse shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Nodoka, but thank you for asking."

"You will come back to visit sometime, won't you Mousse?"

"I'm sure I'll be back to visit sometime," he said, briefly looking at Nabiki. "In fact I'm absolutely sure I'll be back."

Nodoka looked at Mousse and then at Nabiki, a knowing smile forming on her face. "Well you're always welcome here. Good bye, Mousse!" she called as he walked down the street. He stopped to wave back and continued on his way.

Two blocks down the street, Mousse began thinking about his visit in the Tendo household. It was a strange place, but no stranger than the rest of the town. His thoughts kept going back to Nabiki, and the image of her in clad in the bath towel refused to leave his mind.

He also thought about how she managed to keep him off balance the entire time they were conversing. Not many people could do that.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. _Focus on what's important now._

She was close now, he could feel it. He smiled. _I'm coming for you Khu Lon._

Back in the Tendo home, Nodoka shut the door and knelt beside Nabiki, who was back to reading her magazine.

"That Mousse is such a nice boy, don't you think Nabiki," she said.

Nabiki made a noncommittal sound and continued reading.

"He's so polite," Nodoka continued. "Handsome too. He has such nice hair."

Nabiki rolled onto her side and looked at her. "If I didn't know better, Auntie, I'd say you were trying to set me up with Mousse." Her expression turned mischievous. "Unless it's you who wants him…"

"Nabiki, I'm a married woman! No, I'm just pointing out how nice he is. And he will be back sometime…"

Nabiki shrugged. "We'll see."

Nodoka smiled, satisfied, and got up.

Waiting until Nodoka went to the kitchen, Nabiki rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, thinking. Nodoka was right though. He was handsome. Very handsome. She thought about how he looked in the bathroom, all lean, tight muscle with long, flowing hair and the most stunning green eyes she had ever seen. And she liked it when he blushed.

She frowned. But there was something else about him, something that frightened her. As soon as she mentioned Cologne, he transformed from a nervous young man to a predator. At that moment she knew he was extremely dangerous, she felt it inside to her very core.

Then again, maybe it wasn't so bad. That sense of danger about him was thrilling in a way. And of course, there was the possibility some cash could be made from this. Things have gotten too quiet ever since the failed wedding between her sister and Ranma.

She smiled. _This could be interesting._


	4. Part IV

Author's Note: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed

Author's Note: Since I've been busy for the past couple of weeks I haven't been able to update the story as much as I've wanted to, and I apologize. This is only a part of chapter four, so please bear with me until I can get the rest written.

The rain had stopped halfway to the Cat Café, replaced by a cloudless blue sky and radiant sunshine. Mousse held out a hand from under the umbrella and looked up before tucking it away in a sleeve. He squinted painfully under the sunlight that was made even more intense by the weather's sudden transition from dark storm to clear sky. He pulled out a pair of red-tinted spectacles and put them on, blinking a few times as the world took on a crimson hue. Looking around he saw that the people had returned from their cover and were walking the rain slick sidewalks, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

He was about to continue walking when he felt something collide with his leg. He looked down to see a black potbelly pig wearing a yellow bandanna glaring up at him with surprisingly intelligent eyes. If he didn't know better, it was as though the pig was saying, _"What the hell are you lookin' at?"_ It picked itself up, snorted once at him indignantly then walked off, its snout held up in the air.

Mousse stared at the pig until it disappeared down an alley then shook his head. _I'm not even going to try._

The door opened with a silvery chiming sound from the bells set above it. The Cat Café was big for a restaurant, with round tables wide enough to seat entire families set throughout the main room. In spite of the restaurant's size the crowd was relatively sparse, with only a few people seated at each table, conversing with each other over empty bowls.

He smiled. _She's here._

His eyes moved to the back of the room, toward the kitchen area. _There._

"Nihao!"

Mousse started in surprise and turned his attention to the source of the voice. His breath caught in his throat. Before him stood a vision of beauty. Ankle-length hair the color of violets framed a smiling, heart-shaped face with eyes the color of dark wine that twinkled with mischief. A waitress's apron covered her petite body, but couldn't hide the curvaceous form that her pantsuit hugged in such a way that somehow left little and at the same time very much to the imagination. Everything about her screamed Amazon. The urge to reach out and snap her neck was almost overwhelming.

"You okay, strange person?" she asked expectantly, still smiling.

Fighting down the sudden need to kill the person standing in front of him, Mousse forced a smile. "I'm fine. May I see my table?"

The smile slid from his face when she nodded and giggled slightly in that same cheery fashion and turned around to show him a table. He watched her weave between the tables, every movement smooth and supple, much like he imagined her body would be under that apron. He desperately fought the urge to kill her then and there, to take her head between his hands and twist sharply, ripping it clean off.

He took a deep breath. _Why do I want to kill this one so badly?_

"Here you are!" she announced, showing him a table in the middle of the room. "You want order now, yes?"

Mousse forced the smile back on his face. "No, actually I came here to speak with Khu Lon. Is she here by chance?"

The waitress looked confused. "You here to see great-grandmother? Why you want talk with her?"

Mousse tensed up immediately upon hearing those words. _Great-grandmother._

Using all of his will to keep the pleasant expression on his face from twisting into one of raging hatred, he instead cleared his throat and tried to speak. "Did you say great-grandmother? As in, she is your real great-grandmother or is that just what you call her because she is your elder?"

Still looking confused, the waitress answered hesitantly. "Yes, great-grandmother Shampoo's mother's mother's mother."

Suddenly all the rage that had flared up inside was gone, replaced by the icy cold he was familiar with. His smile turned just as chill. "That so?"

The waitress backed away nervously at his sudden change in demeanor. "Um, I go get great-grandmother for you then, yes?"

He nodded slowly, still smiling coldly at her. "Thank you."

She didn't waste any time bowing before hurrying her way back to the kitchen, casting nervous glances back at him and trying to move as quickly as possible without running. Mousse watched with a satisfied expression as she all but ran to the back room. It was gratifying to see he still had that effect on people.

The satisfied expression faded into a thoughtful frown. _Why do I want that girl dead so badly? It doesn't make any sense._

His frown deepened as he mulled over these thoughts. _What was her name? Shampoo? Xian Pu? I don't remember her from the village, but I'm sure she's one of them. Who is she?_

"Grandmother?"

Cologne ignored the voice for a moment and instead waited for the ramen she was cooking to finish. When it was done she expertly flipped the basket over into a bowl and tossed it to her right without even a glance. The bowl was almost a blur as it flew threw the air like a missile, but was caught easily by her granddaughter.

"Deluxe ramen, order up," Cologne declared, while starting on another order. She looked up. "Why are you back here, child?"

"There someone to see you, Grandmother," Shampoo said with a slight tremor in her voice.

Cologne narrowed her eyes. Her granddaughter stood there, obviously agitated, casting glances back toward the dining room and clutching her apron with her free hand in a white-knuckled grip. Her granddaughter, strongest warrior of her generation and future leader of the most powerful warriors in the world, was frightened.

Cologne dropped the noodle basket and hopped on her staff until she was directly in front of her granddaughter. "What is the matter, Xian Pu?" She inquired in Chinese, but her granddaughter was staring back in the direction of the dining room. Cologne scowled. "Xian Pu!"

Shampoo started and almost dropped the bowl of ramen she was holding. She flushed and bowed her head. "Forgive me, Grandmother. I did not hear you," she replied back in Chinese.

Cologne sighed. "You said I had a visitor. Well, who is it?"

Shampoo raised her head. "I don't know, Grandmother. It was a boy. He was… I don't know."

Cologne snorted, not quite believing a mere boy could inspire any sort of fear in her successor. "A boy is it? Well, what does he look like?"

"He was… strangely dressed," she said, and shivered slightly. "There was something about him that frightened me grandmother." She paused, and got a faraway look in her eyes. "And yet, I don't know, but he seems familiar to me…"

Cologne frowned. It didn't sound like anyone she knew. But knowing Nerima, it was probably some insanely powerful martial artist or demigod that has come here for Ranma. In that case, it wasn't anything out of ordinary. Things would work out as they always do.

"He can wait," she told her granddaughter. "Tell him that I'll see him momentarily. But in the meantime there are more important things to do. Like taking that ramen to our customer before it gets cold."

Shampoo nodded, calmed by her great-grandmother's confidence, and walked quickly back out into the dining room.

Cologne watched her leave before turning back to the oven. She shook her head. Imagine, a boy causing her granddaughter to worry. It was of no matter how intimidating his appearance may be, he was still a male, and underneath it all he was still inherently weak.

With that, secure in her convictions, she nodded and started making the next order.

"What?" Mousse said, taking his headphones off.

The waitress's expression tightened. "I say Grandmother come visit you soon. Would you like order?"

"No," he replied, putting the headphones back on. He closed his eyes. "I'll wait."

He felt her standing there for a moment longer, tense, as though she wanted to talk to him, before she finally left. He smiled. She was still afraid of him. Good. It will make that much more satisfying when he kills her.

He opened his eyes and stared at the far wall. She was still there, oblivious to his presence.

He smiled again. _Time to make myself known._

Cologne almost dropped the basket she was holding. A sudden burst of chi, so strong even a normal person would be able to feel it, flared up in the dining room. And yet it was so finely controlled that she was certain she was the only one who noticed it.

She placed the basket on the counter. _It seems our guest is getting impatient._

"Shampoo!" she called.

Shampoo appeared in the entrance. "Yes, Grandmother?"

"I want you to go into the storeroom and count how much flour we still have."

"But what about customers?"

"Take care of them first then."

Shampoo smiled brightly. "Ok, Grandmother. I do."

Cologne waited until Shampoo was inside the storeroom before moving to go out. Her great-granddaughter did not need to be involved in this.

Cologne hopped on her staff to the entrance to the dining room and stopped. It was gone. Whoever had made that chi beacon had disappeared. She scanned the room carefully. Anyone who could spontaneously generate that much chi in such a short time and control it like that was someone to be wary of. Her eyes stopped on a figure seated at a table in the corner.

All around her, every living thing was giving off an aura; herself, the customers, even the potted plants. But that figure was giving off nothing. It was as though nothing was there, just a void. If she couldn't see him with her own eyes she would doubt he was even there. She would have to proceed even more carefully. If he had achieved such a high state of control that he could actually mask his chi, then that would make him much more dangerous than she first anticipated.

She hopped on her staff until she was standing beside the boy. Her mouth twisted as she studied him. Children's appearances these days were getting more and more eccentric, but this one outdid most of them. All black garb with a long coat with a hem that actually touched the floor, long hair with a number of small silver ornaments tied in a single lock of hair at his temple, and red-tinted spectacles over closed eyes. He was tapping gloved finger on the table to music she could hear coming from headphones over his ears. If she didn't know this boy was so dangerous she would probably have told him to leave her restaurant.

Cologne cleared her throat, trying to proceed carefully. It wouldn't do to make him mad. She was confident she could defeat him, but she didn't want her restaurant destroyed in the process. Her insurance is high enough as it is.

She was about to clear her throat again when suddenly he raised his hand. He opened his eyes and turned his head to face her. Cologne frowned slightly. There was something in his eyes when he saw her, some intense emotion that was there and gone in an instant, to be replaced by an amiable smile. As he removed his headphones, she caught a brief part of the music he was listening to.

…_left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you…_

He motioned for her to sit across from him, smiling all the while. Cologne warily hopped to the other end of the table, not taking her eyes off him.

He was wearing a mask. Not a literal mask, but almost as good as one. He was still smiling, but that same unidentifiable emotion she caught earlier was back in his eyes, and getting more intense as he looked at her.

The faced each other for a few moments, while one studied the other. Finally the boy spoke.

"You don't recognize me," he said, with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Should I?" replied Cologne. There was something definitely familiar about him, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

He sighed and shook his head, the ornaments in his hair tinkling as they moved. "I was hoping to get to you before senility did. I guess I was too late."

Cologne's eyes widened in shock and then narrowed dangerously. Her grip tightened on her staff. _The audacity of this…_male_! Restaurant or no, this boy must be taught a…_

The boy's smile turned wicked. "Quack, quack."

Cologne went numb. Everything finally clicked in to place. It was him. He's alive.

His expression became even more malicious. "Don't croak on me now, Ku Lon. I just got here."

"Mu Tzu," she gasped. "You're alive."

"You know I seem to get that a lot from your kind," he said, putting an elbow on the table and leaning his head against his hand.

"What… but how?" Cologne started, and then stopped. _Gather your wits, Elder! You must _not _show weakness, especially to him._

Cologne took a deep breath. "I see you're still alive. How?"

Mousse sat up and nodded in approval and the Elder's quick recovery. "Good, good. Maybe you're not as weak as I thought you were. You didn't really think I was just simply going to die after I escaped, did you?"

Cologne frowned at his remark, but restrained herself. "No, I suppose not, but there was always that hope."

Mousse nodded and yawned, as though bored. "You know what I want Cologne. And you know you can't stop me."

Cologne barked a laugh. "You sorely overestimate your own strength, whelp. You cannot possibly hope to stand against four thousand years of Amazon…"

"Two thousand years," he interrupted, his face the very picture of boredom.

"What?" Cologne choked.

"The Chinese Amazon culture is two thousand years old," he said casually, finding more interest in examining the back of his hand than the conversation. "I did some research on the subject. It was brought to China by Alexander the Great when his armies were about to march on India. The last remnants of the Greek Amazons tagged along on his conquests and instead of going home, broke off to settle in China. So spare me your propaganda, please."

Cologne was almost shaking she was so enraged. "You lie, boy! The Amazons are…"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Mousse said, casually flicking the silver ornaments tied in his hair with a thumb. His gaze suddenly turned sharp as he looked at her. He smiled. "Regardless, I think I did pretty well against your 'four thousand years' of history…"

Cologne stopped in midsentence, suddenly suspicious. _What did he mean by that? _

She narrowed her eyes, and suddenly gasped, her countenance turning pale. _Oh ancestors…he couldn't have…_

His smile turned into a grin, the ornaments in his hair ringing as he flicked them.

She ignored his expression as she hurriedly counted the Elder symbols tied in the boy's hair. _One… two… three…four…oh no._

"Oh yes," he said, answering the thought she unconsciously whispered. "They're all dead. All except you."

He cocked his head to the side while staring at her, any trace of a smile gone from his face. She could feel his eyes burning into her.

"Do you know what it was like in the dark?" he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. "Do you know what it was like? No sound, no light, nothing but your thoughts and the feel of your own heartbeat. I couldn't move, I couldn't see, I couldn't hear."

He leaned forward until his face was almost touching hers, staring into her eyes with frightening intensity.

"Do you know what happens when you're in the dark for too long?" he said softly. "Your mind has nothing to feed on, so it feeds on itself. You begin seeing things, or hearing voices. There were even times when I was sure something was in there with me."

Cologne was paralyzed with fear and shock, and could only stare as he leaned even closer.

"Did you hear my screams?" he asked. "I know you did. What were they like? Did you enjoy them? Did they pain you? Did you care at all?"

Mousse slowly raised a gloved hand and pulled down the high collar covering his throat.

"I still bear the scar you gave me," he said, revealing the ugly mark that ran around his throat. He ran a finger across it. "Perhaps I'll return the favor."

He stared at her a moment longer, while she could only gape at him. "Would you like to know how they died?"

Cologne finally snapped out of her trance-like state. "What?"

"I asked if you would like to know how your sisters died," he replied, leaning back in his chair, a bored look on his face again.

Cologne stared at him. All the intensity, the hate, she saw a moment ago was gone in an instant, replaced by a sort of detached boredom. She looked around to see the entire restaurant was empty, half-finished bowls of ramen still on the table. It seems the people of Nerima had a keen sense for impending danger.

Mousse stood up. "Well, if you don't feel like hearing about it now, I'll just tell you later then."

He leaned forward over the table. He smirked. "By the way, your granddaughter is very pretty."

Cologne immediately shot up on her staff in alarm. _He knows! How did he find out?_

"Don't you dare touch her," she snarled.

Mousse backed up, hands held up defensively but still smirking. "Whoa now, calm yourself. I wouldn't dream of doing anything to your granddaughter. Well, unless she wanted me to…"

Cologne hopped forward menacingly on her staff.

"…and if she did, well then…," he continued. His eyes glinted. "You get the idea."

Cologne was prepared to strike at the boy then and there when a familiar voice called out.

"Yo! Anyone here, I'm starving!"

Ranma Saotome walked through the doors to the Cat Café, and stopped when he saw Cologne facing off against a stranger in weird clothing. It could be another one of those insanely powerful martial artists looking for him.

"Uh, maybe I'd better come back later," he said, backing out. He was almost out when Shampoo spotted him.

"Ai len!"

Mousse and Cologne both stopped as Shampoo flew across the room to grip Ranma in a very painful looking hug.

"Ranma come for Shampoo to cook too too delicious ramen, yes?" she asked.

Mousse looked from where the newcomer was being held in a deathgrip by the waitress to Cologne and smiled slowly.

Cologne, catching on to what he was thinking, shook her head. "No, don't. The boy is not involved and neither is my granddaughter. Leave them be."

Instead of answering, Mousse walked forward until he was standing behind the other boy.

"Excuse me," he said.

Shampoo had dropped Ranma as soon as Mousse approached and stepped back slightly. Ranma turned around to face the stranger, unsure of Cologne's and Shampoo's reactions toward him.

"Uh, hi," he said warily.

"You're Ranma? Ranma Saotome?" Mousse asked.

The expression on Ranma's face grew even warier. "Yeah that's me. Who's askin'?"

Mousse studied the boy in front of him for a moment. This was the Ranma Saotome he'd heard so much about. He was a powerful fighter, he could tell simply by feeling the chi flowing from him. He had a lot of potential. Mousse looked closer. He could see the resemblance between Ranma and his mother. She was right about him.

Mousse stuck out his hand. "My name's Mousse. Nice to meet you."

Ranma blinked in surprise and then grinned in relief. He reached out with his own hand.

"Nice to meet you too, Mousse," he said, shaking his hand vigorously. He laughed. "You know, for a moment there I thought you might have come here looking for me."

Mousse smiled and nodded. "Well, I've never heard of you until I arrived here."

"Really?" Ranma replied. "Well, don't believe everything you hear around here. People tend to exaggerate."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mousse said. "Well, I must be leaving now, I have a prior engagement. See you later. Xian Pu, Ku Lon."

Cologne stared at Mousse until he was gone from view. She cursed silently. If her daughter hadn't arrived when she did she might have been able to take him down. She looked over to where Shampoo was now her normal bubbly self and hanging all over Ranma. Shampoo must be kept from Mousse. The danger she is in now from the boy is enough. But if he were to remember…

Cologne winced as she felt a twinge of guilt. Perhaps the Elders had been wrong in doing what they did. Perhaps she was wrong in doing what she did.

_No use crying over spilled milk_, she thought. _I must make the best of this no matter how it turns out._

Mousse thought to himself as he strolled down the sidewalk. _Ranma is that girl's fiancée. Poor bastard probably defeated her a while back._

He stopped and smiled as a plan began to form in his mind. _There could be something to this._


	5. Part V

Author's Note: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed

Author's Notes: I just want to say thank you all again for your reviews, they're really appreciated. Like the last chapter, I'm only about halfway through with this one, but I thought you all would like to read it anyway. I would also like to say thank you to the reviewer who criticized my work. Although it wasn't exactly constructive criticism, I still respect your opinion. And you're right, about some things at least. The idea that Mousse would somehow be taken away at a young age from the Amazons and then trained by someone from the west and after that come back to wipe out the village, which he hadn't yet by the way, is preposterous. Just like the idea of a certain area in China having cursed springs that turn people into whatever drowned in them last when hit with cold water is preposterous, or the idea of being hit with enough force to be sent flying two hundred feet into the sky and then landing on the ground with relatively minor wounds is preposterous. As for the notion of Amazons being able to deal with bullets, well, I find the idea of anyone, even in the Ranmaverse, somehow dodging bullets fired pointblank at them is dumb as hell.

Ranma was only too happy to be ushered out by Cologne when he finished his bowl of ramen. Cologne suspected that the idea of being around the adoring Shampoo any longer had made him lose much of his appetite. That boy was going to be trouble the entire time he was married to her great-granddaughter, she knew, but there were more immediate problems to worry about. Like a certain other boy she should have killed long ago when she had the chance.

"Close the shop, Granddaughter," Cologne ordered. "We must talk." She sighed when she saw the dreamy expression on Shampoo's face. The girl was absolutely smitten with Ranma. It was unseemly for any Amazon female to act like that, although she could remember long ago when she herself had been at that age. So instead of chastising her, she just raised her voice slightly.

"Shampoo."

Shampoo jumped slightly in surprise, and then turned to her great-grandmother with a sheepish look. "Yes, Grandmother?"

"I need you to close the shop," she repeated. "We must…"

She was interrupted by the sound of the door chime.

"We're sorry, but we are closed now…" she began. Her eyes widened when she saw who it was.

"Lin-Lin, Lan-Lan!" she exclaimed.

In the doorway stood the young warrior twins of the Amazon tribe, looking much worse than the last they had been at the Cat Café. Their normally brightly colored silk clothing was filthy and in some spots torn. The girls themselves were a mess, gaunt from lack of food and exhausted from their journey. In spite of that, they were amazingly alert, polearms held at ready and eyes darting from side to side as if expecting an assailant to appear out of nowhere. Even when they saw the Elder Cologne and their Big Sister Shampoo they didn't quite let down their guard.

"Elder Cologne, Big Sister?" Lin-Lin asked, with a strange sort of hope in her voice.

"Yes it me, what you think you doing?" demanded Shampoo.

Suddenly the twins dropped their weapons and ran at Shampoo, arms outstretched.

"Big Sister Shampoo!" they wailed into her apron. "We thought you dead!"

Shampoo looked at Cologne with a questioningly as she held the sobbing twins. Cologne could only shake her head in answer.

After some crying and a bowl of hot ramen each, the twins were ready to talk.

"Elder Ku Lon, your sisters…," began Lan-Lan in her native language. She sniffed sharply as though keeping back a sob.

"I know, child. They're dead," said Cologne tiredly.

Shampoo jerked her head around to stare in bewilderment at her great-grandmother. The twins were no less surprised.

"How did you know, Elder?" asked Lan-Lan. "No other messengers were sent besides us."

Cologne sighed. "The killer told me himself."

The breath caught in young girls' throats. Cologne continued. "Tell me, how did they die?"

There was a sudden haunted look in the twins' eyes. Cologne knew this couldn't be good.

"We didn't see how he killed them, but we saw the results," Lin-Lin said, and proceeded to tell in painful detail how the other Elders had died.

Cologne shuddered as she listened. Lo-Hsin, the healer, pinned to the ceiling of her own home with knives through her limbs and then gutted like a fish. Po-Hsin, the young one, or at least what was left of her, lying in bed as she was ripped apart by the explosion of some weapon. Jagged pieces of metal were found embedded in the walls, floor, and ceiling. They suspected she was drugged or knocked out. At least she wasn't conscious when she died helpless in bed. So-Pu, the lorekeeper, killed while studying ancient martial arts techniques in a monastery with Buddhist monks. The fight between her and the killer had led them to the very slopes of what westerners called K-2, the most dangerous mountain in the world and only a stone's throw height of being as tall as Everest. The monks who witnessed the battle say he got partway down the treacherous mountain by using her corpse as a snowboard. When the twins' saw the body, they didn't doubt their word. And finally the last victim, Ai-Vi, the most idealistic of them all, always seeking new and modern ideas or fighting techniques among those from the outside civilizations. He found her in South Korea, where she was later found one morning as a bloody stain on the sidewalk. The news reported there were huge amounts of hallucinogenic drugs in her body and someone had left her on top of Seoul's tallest skyscraper. The case was still under investigation.

With each passing sentence describing the incredibly depraved murders, Cologne grew more and more enraged and disgusted. But even more so she was frightened; not for herself, but for her great-granddaughter.

If he did all those horrible things to them, what would he do to my Shampoo? She thought. She suppressed a shudder.

The table was silent. Cologne looked up. The twins were staring at the table's surface, their eyes glazed over as they saw the things they had just described again in their minds. Cologne felt sorry for them. Eventually everyone gets exposed to death, it was inevitable, but for ones so young to see death in such an unbelievably brutal form was almost as great a tragedy as the deaths themselves. It was a death of innocence more than anything.

Shampoo was taking it slightly better, but only because she still couldn't quite understand what was going on. Her face had turned a sickly shade of white as she heard the twins recount their tale, but since no one had told her exactly what was going on, she couldn't be sure.

Cologne decided there would be enough time to tell her later. "How did all this happen?" she asked quietly.

Lin-Lin and Lan-Lan looked up at the same time and glanced at each other once before continuing. Lan-Lan nodded to Lin-Lin.

"It was about four months ago, Elder," she started. "An outsider came to the village. Everyone thought it would be fun playing with him, and Mei-Yin stepped in first to challenge him." She licked her lips. "She was just talking to him, when he said something and Mei-Yin finally recognized him." She leaned forward. "It was Mu Tzu."

Shampoo gasped. "What? How…?"

Cologne cut her off with a raised hand and motioned for the younger girl to continue. "He moved real close to her and whispered something in her ear. Then a bunch of smoke came out of nowhere and he was gone," she finished, throwing her arms wide to better convey the amount of smoke that was produced.

Lan-Lan took over. "He came back around sunset. He was in his house, I think, to collect some things. We were waiting for him."

Lan-Lan took a drink of water from a nearby cup. "We had many of our warriors surrounding his house, but he didn't seem worried. When we attacked him…" she shuddered. Cologne waited patiently to go on. "When we attacked him, he used these… things… to fight us. I think they were called guns. Each time he would use one, another of our sisters fell." She shook her head. "We've never seen anything like it before. We were frightened, and he fell upon us in our confusion. Many of our warriors fell before we could pull together again, but by that time, he knew he was outmatched and fled for the forest." She bit her bottom lip. "He killed the Elders at night. We couldn't protect them."

She looked ready to start crying again when Cologne laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Do not worry about it, child. There is no shame in being defeated by one such as he. Now go on upstairs the both of you. There is a bath and you can sleep in one of the rooms."

The twins bowed in grateful relief to her and trudged wearily upstairs. Cologne had never seen those two so fatigued, in body or soul.

"Grandmother?" Cologne closed her eyes. Now came the hard part.

"Yes, child?"

"Is it true? Did Mu Tzu really do those things?"

Cologne sighed. "Yes. It was Mu Tzu."

Silence. "When did you talk to him?"

"Just now. The boy in the strange clothes. That was him."

Cologne heard a gasp and the sound of a bowl shattering on the floor.

"But grandmother, you said Mu Tzu was dead…?"

Cologne sighed again. She could either tell her the truth or she could continue giving her the half-truths she had fed her all those years ago. Elders couldn't outright lie, but sometimes the rules could be bent. She made her choice.

"You're right, I said Mu Tzu was dead. But he's not, as you have already seen."

"But why, Grandmother?" Shampoo pleaded.

Cologne took in a deep breath. Here goes. "After you left on your training trip, Mu Tzu changed. He became very violent and was a danger to us all. And when he lost his parents, he finally came undone. We banished him from the village forever. It was a death sentence, I know, but he had already hurt so many. He even killed two in a 'hunting accident.' We never thought he would return alive. I'm sorry, Granddaughter. I know he was your friend."

"But that doesn't make sense!" Shampoo said, that same pleading note in her voice. "He didn't recognize me at all!"

"Time passes and people change, Shampoo," Cologne said patiently. "He may not recognize you because you've grown up so much. You two hadn't seen each other since you were five, and you didn't recognize him."

"But, still…" Shampoo started. Her face took a determined look. "I'm going to find him. I'm going to make him remember who he is and who…"

"No, you must not!" Cologne almost shouted, whirling around on her staff. Shampoo took an involuntary step back. "You must not go anywhere near him. He is very dangerous, he has already killed all of my sisters, and they were far more powerful than you, not to mention many of our warriors. If he thinks you're trying to trick him, he won't hesitate to kill you."

"But…"

"No buts. Now promise me you won't go near him."

"I…"

"Promise!"

"Okay… I promise."

Cologne visibly relaxed on her staff, relief washing over her. At least she could count on her granddaughter not to get herself killed. However, even that was small comfort knowing that he could seek her out at anytime. Not that Cologne would allow that. He had already taken too much from her. It ends here.

He knew what they would say if they ever found out. That was stupid. That was really stupid. No, it was more than stupid. It was _stupid_. And Mousse couldn't figure out why he did that himself. Advertising his presence to an enemy was the biggest mistake anyone in his situation could make. The Elders were far too powerful to fight head on, so he always used the advantages of surprise and superior weaponry to the fullest. Even so, the last two times he barely survived the confrontations, even when the fights were on his terms. But he did survive, and he did win, thanks especially to his trump card…

As if on cue, he stumbled forward as pain ripped through his body. He propped himself up against a nearby wall and brought his hand to his mouth as the taste of blood flooded it. Every muscle in his body was contracting painfully, causing him to hunch over, and his insides felt like they were on fire. The pain raged for a moment and then vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Mousse stood up shakily. He looked at his gloved hand and found blood. He wiped it on his pants and used the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his mouth. The drug was beginning to catch up to him. There wasn't even a warning to the attack this time.

Mousse spit as he walked, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. The drug's side effects were finally taking their toll on him, leaving him considerably weaker than before he first started. The attacks were coming more and more frequently, and now there wasn't even a warning before they struck. It wouldn't be long before he was in no shape to even think about fighting Cologne, if he hadn't already reached that point.

Sudden weariness drowned out the frustration he was feeling at the possibility of not being able to complete his task. He knew hunger would soon follow, so he searched for the nearest restaurant. It didn't take long before he found one.

Mousse looked up at the large sign hanging over a small building that simply read _Ucchan's_. If it weren't for the delicious smell of frying okonomiyaki wafting out from inside he wouldn't have known it was a restaurant.

He breathed in the scent deeply. It had been a long time since he last had okonomiyaki. His smile twisted into a grimace as faint, but sharp, hunger pangs cut through his stomach. He knew they were only a promise of what was to come if he didn't eat something quick.

It was a slow day at Ucchan's. Ukyo sighed in boredom as she flipped her spatula over and over in her hand. All the customers had already been served and no new ones were coming in. She glanced over at her waiter/waitress Konatsu. Even the abnormally perky male kunoichi looked bored. She considered telling him to do something, anything, so he could earn his keep, but she remembered how little she actually paid him. Maybe she should start a delivery service.

She mulled the thought over in her mind when someone walked in. She stood up immediately and was about to greet her new customer, but paused when she got a good look at him. He was intimidating, wearing all that black, and he moved with the fluid grace of a fighter. But when Konatsu, eager to wait on him, greeted him at the door, the stranger started and took a step back. He almost looked like he was about to leave, but then seemed to sigh in resignation and allowed the kunoichi to seat him in front of Ukyo. She could see his eyes widen behind his tinted spectacles when he saw the huge combat spatula strapped to her back.

"What'll you have, sugar?" she asked.

He didn't answer immediately, but kept his eyes on the monster of a spatula she always kept on her.

"You do know there's a giant spatula on your back, don't you?" he asked.

Ukyo clenched her teeth. _We got a live one here._ "Yes, I do know there's a giant spatula on my back. Would you like to order now?"

He nodded. "Then you also know that your waitress is actually a guy, right?"

Ukyo almost dropped her spatula in surprise. That anyone could tell the transvestite ninja was actually male by just looking was incredible.

"Shh, quiet!" she hissed. She looked at the other customers to see if anyone overheard. It wouldn't be good for business if everyone thought she hired perverts. "Yes, I know that too. Now could you order something please?"

The stranger bowed his head. "Of course, I'm sorry for being so rude. Could I have a pepper beef okonomiyaki with a kimchi side?"

Ukyo blinked. At least he's polite. "Sorry, but we don't have any kimchi. Is there anything else you would like instead?"

"You have wasabi sauce?"

"Yeah we have that. Will that be all?"

The stranger's face twisted into an expression of pain. "Yeah, that's all," he said hoarsely.

Ukyo watched in concern as he leaned forward on his seat, clutching his stomach. "Are you alright, sugar?"

"Yeah, I'm alright," he gasped. He lifted his head and smiled weakly. "I guess I'm just really hungry."

Ukyo nodded slowly. "Right. I'll go get your order ready then," she said, and began mixing the batter.

Ukyo stole quick glances at her customer while the okonomiyaki was cooking. He seemed to be better now, and was staring intently at the frying food. He was handsome in a way, even if she didn't like longhaired men, and the silvery ornaments tied in a single lock was a nice touch. But of course he was nowhere near as handsome as her Ranchan.

A thought occurred to her as she placed the finished okonomiyaki on a plate for him. He could be another martial artist trying to fight Ranchan. Not that it would matter anyway, because Ranchan never lost. But if he was good…

"Mm, this is good!"

Ukyo looked up to see him grinning widely after swallowing a mouthful of pepper beef okonomiyaki.

"This is the best okonomiyaki I've ever had!" he continued, biting into another mouthful of Japanese pizza. "I mean this is really, really good!"

Ukyo blushed slightly at the compliments, and then stared in shock as he finished it with incredible speed. His hands were blurring as he ate. When he was finished he held out his plate.

"Seconds?"

Ukyo nodded and fixed another okonomiyaki, which he ate even faster than the last one. By the time he was finished, eight okonomiyaki had disappeared, eaten faster than she could cook them. She had only seen her Ranchan eat that fast.

Her customer leaned back and sighed in relief, his eyes closed. Ukyo cleared her throat. Maybe she could find out why he was here.

"I've never seen you before, sugar. You new here?"

He opened his eyes. "Yes, I just flew in recently from Korea. You must be Ucchan, right? My name is Mousse."

Ukyo couldn't help smiling at his name. "Moo-suh? Mousse? You're named after a hair care product?"

Instead of being insulted, Mousse only smiled back. "Well, actually I…" He frowned suddenly. "You hear something?"

She followed his gaze as he twisted around to look out the windows. She sighed as she saw Happosai, founder and grand master of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts, bouncing along as he carried a large bundle of lingerie. And following closely behind were the infuriated owners of that lingerie. The old pervert was at it pretty early today. Suddenly Ranma and Akane appeared to block the old pervert's way.

_Ranchan!_ Ukyo was about to jump over the counter when she remembered her customer, who was looking at what was happening in shock. He was definitely new here.

"Sorry sugar, but I gotta go," she said hurriedly. "We'll have to talk later."

He nodded slowly without looking at her, mouth slightly open as he watched the carnage that was unfolding.

Ukyo looked at him for a moment more before deciding he would be okay and ran as quickly as she could toward the door. Ranchan might need her help.

Mousse watched in a sort of horror as a one foot tall, shriveled old man dressed in a ninja suit ran by carrying a cloth sack larger than he was, being chased by a horde of angry young women carrying brooms, mops, and other cleaning tools. Then, Ranma and a shorthaired girl wielding a huge mallet appeared in front of him, only to disappear in a cloud of smoke as the old man threw what looked like an old-fashioned fuse bomb at them. He was barely aware of Ucchan saying something about leaving, before she ran out the door to join the fray. That he couldn't hear anything that was happening from behind the door and windows only added to its surreal quality.

Mousse groaned. Suddenly, all those okonomiyaki he ate weren't settling too well. The transvestite waitress walked up to him, smiling amiably. Now they really weren't settling well.

"Will that be all, sir?" he asked.

Mousse nodded quickly and stood up. He pulled out a ten thousand yen note and laid it on the counter, and handed another to the waiter.

"You got a back way I could use?" he asked.

The waiter's eyes widened at the generous tip he received and bowed his thanks. "Yes we do, please follow me."

Outside, Mousse leaped to the top of the building and made his way as quickly as could out of Nerima, jumping from roof to roof. The fighting was over with, leaving the street with an eerie quiet. This was possibly the weirdest place he had ever been to. Not quite Alice in Wonderland weird, but close. He didn't think he could take another minute in that place without feeling that the weirdness had somehow rubbed off on him.

He stumbled slightly as another attack hit him, and barely stopped at the edge of the roof before falling off. He held his breath until the pain subsided. Apparently the attacks weren't giving him warnings anymore.

He knew he needed to rest. Four months of constant travel, tracking, fighting, and killing was catching up to him. And he had used full doses of the drug twice in that four month period, far more than what was considered safe by anyone. But he was so close. Cologne was there, and when she was dead, it would all be over. After that, all that's left would be to take care of the rest of the Amazons, and without the protection of their elders, they would be easy prey.

He sighed continued on his way out of Nerima toward his hotel. _I guess a month or two of rest and relaxation couldn't hurt. I still have time, and I can't fight Cologne like this. Besides, it's not like she knows where to find me. I'll wait, and plan my next move later._


	6. Side Story

Author's Note: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed

Author's Note: I've come to an impasse. There is a huge writer's block in my head, and I seriously don't know how the story is going to progress. So until I can get past this, I've decided to write a small side story involving how Mousse lost his curse. I hope you like it. Also, I've been thinking about changing the summary to the story. It just doesn't seem all that effective to me and I was never good at writing summaries, so any help would be welcome.

Mousse studied the corpse thoughtfully. Faint sounds of battle drifted to him through the labyrinthine halls of the palace complex, echoing off the walls and high vaulted ceiling. He was in the nexus of numerous adjoining passageways, which at the moment was littered with the mangled bodies of guards he recently killed. But one of the bodies in particular intrigued him.

Mousse prodded at the body with his foot as if to make sure it was dead, in spite of the fact it no longer had any head to speak of. He wiped his face with his hand. He couldn't remember killing him, or the others. The only thing he remembered was the strangely simian man yelling 'Shadowfall,' and something like his own feelings turning against him before everything went blank. Apparently the man was right, but it didn't turn out even remotely the way he thought. After seeing the way the other men died, Mousse was glad he couldn't remember.

But there was one thing about the monkey-like man that caught his interest, and that was the fact that he was monkey-like. Very monkey-like. Abnormally long, furry limbs, a stooped posture, and an annoying hooting laugh all made him seem like a chimp. But now that Mousse has a closer look he saw there wasn't just a resemblance, but that the man was actually a monkey.

"Could this be Tokenkgyo?" he murmured softly to himself.

Footsteps coming from the way he came made him look up. When he saw it was Marc, he stood up.

Marc was a stocky boy about his age, his facial features marking him as having Asian descent. His broad face was almost always grinning, as though he knew something no one else did and was about to make a joke out of it. He was a comedian at heart and was the only one that could make Mouse consistently laugh. However, in spite of his easygoing manner, he also happened to be one of the best, if not the best, marksmen Mousse has ever known.

Marc wasn't grinning now. This was a job, and it was to be taken seriously. He stopped as he stepped into the room and let out a low whistle.

"Where did you go today psycho boy?" he asked, as he stood beside Mousse. He grimaced in disgust at the body Mousse was examining.

"What do you see when you look at him?" Mousse asked, gesturing to Monkeyman's corpse.

Marc glanced quickly and looked away. "I see a guy who got his arm ripped off and his head beaten to a bloody mess with it. The hell you do that for?"

Mousse blinked and looked at the corpse. He blinked again as he realized he done just as Marc said.

"Well anyway, just look at it and tell me what you see."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's fucking sick, dude."

"Just do it."

"Alright, alright." Marc sighed and glanced again before turning his head quickly away.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What did you see?"

"I saw a guy that had his arm ripped off and his head beaten to a bloody mess with it. Now tell me, the hell you do that for?"

Mousse shrugged. "He brought out he worst in me. Did you notice anything strange at all about him?"

"Besides the fact he's missing an arm and most of his skull?"

"Yes, besides that."

Marc shrugged. "I don't know, he kind of looked like a monkey to me."

Mousse nodded. "I thought so."

Marc looked at him. "You thought what?"

"I thought he looked like a monkey too."

"So what the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Mousse turned to him. "I think we're on the island of Togenkyo."

Marc stared for a moment before answering. "You really think so? I mean, this could be something else."

"How many other floating islands in the South Seas with only male inhabitants you know about? And this monkey guy here. There's no way this could have happened naturally."

"Good point. So now what, you going to look for that magical spring? You never know, it might not exist."

Mousse sighed. "I'm not sure but I have to see, right?"

Marc paused for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, you never know, this could be it. I'll cover for you, but don't take too long, okay? You're going to have to explain these bodies to Corbo, not me. He's going to be pissed when he finds out you killed all these guys."

Mousse smiled at him. "Don't worry. It's cool as long as I don't make a habit out of it, right?" He started to leave but stopped and turned around. "How are the victims?"

Marc scratched his head. "Actually, they're alright. Treated like queens in fact." He laughed and shook his head. "Oh man, you should have seen what they were wearing. It was like a harem. I mean, I have socks with more cloth on them than what they had on.

Mousse nodded. "I'm sure it was awesome. So we're leaving pretty soon then?"

"Well the girls are, but Corbo wants us to secure the palace now. He said he wants to interrogate some of the people here and maybe make this a base. I guess I can't blame him, it would make a nice base."

"That gives me some time then." He glanced over Marc's shoulder to see a dozen guards charging out of a hall. "Think you can keep those guys busy."

Marc snorted when he saw them. "Easily," he said, a pair of kali sticks appearing in his hands. "You just find that cure."

Mousse shook his head as he walked away. He didn't know why Corbo insisted on using non-lethal weapons. It was the fault of the people who lived here that they still used swords. If they can't adapt to new things, then they must pay the consequences.

The sounds of the fight faded away as he walked deeper into the palace. Soon he was walking in complete silence.

It seems Mousse was walking for hours before he stopped. He sniffed. There was a faint smell of water in the air. He began to walk faster as the scent began to get stronger. Now he could hear it, a faint roaring sound of a waterfall pouring into something deep. He was running now. His heart was pounding in anticipation.

_This is it! It has to be!_ He was vaguely aware of something huge blocking his way. He leaped and extended his foot, catching the thing under the chin. He got a glimpse of a man with wide, blank eyes and a pair of dog-ears poking out of his turban before his head snapped back with a crack. Mousse kept running as the man fell back from the force of the kick. He wasn't sure if the Dogman was dead or simply unconscious, and he didn't care. Getting cured of his curse was the only thing on his mind.

Toma, Prince of Illusion and Ruler of Togenkyo Island, was in a panic. An army of strange, black clad men was besieging his castle. Though they were outnumbered at least ten to one by his own palace guards, the invaders easily repelled any sortie they attempted against them. Now they had forced their way deep inside the harem and freed his potential brides. He was able to stop them briefly with his powers of illusion, but they soon saw past it and redoubled their efforts in taking the palace. He would have been captured then if Torristan hadn't appeared to protect him. Even then, the approaching invader didn't even look like he was trying as he beat Torristan senseless with a pair of short fighting sticks. Toma was again forced to use an illusion, this time to save himself and his bodyguard.

Toma glanced down at the unconscious form of his bodyguard. He had no idea where the other two were. Probably dead by now. He almost cried. For the first time since its founding, Togenkyo was going to fall.

He gasped in fright as he heard the sound of running outside. He held his breath as he heard it coming closer, until it was directly behind the huge door that led to his throneroom. Suddenly it exploded, bits and pieces of wood and metal flying out in all directions. Toma didn't have time to draw his sword before a black form flew out of the swirling dust and closed the distance between them with incredible speed. Toma felt a powerful, gloved hand grip his throat and lift him up until his feet dangled in the air.

Toma pounded on the arm holding him up with his fists and kicked at the invader, but stopped as the grip around his throat tightened. He was suddenly jerked forward, until he was looking into the cold, green eyes of his captor.

"Is this Togenkyo?" he asked.

Toma blinked. They were invading his land but didn't know its name?

"Is this Tokengkyo?" his captor repeated, brutally tightening his grip.

Tears leaked out of Toma's closed eyes as his throat was forced shut. He barely managed to nod.

His captor nodded and relaxed his grip. "I thought so. Is there a spring here that turns whatever it touches into a man?"

Toma took in as deep a breath as the man's grip allowed. The invaders really didn't know anything. He nodded again.

"Where is it?"

Toma's eyes widened. They were after Togenkyo's sacred water!

"I'll never tell you," he spat, knowing that this would be his last act of defiance. "I'll die first."

His captor wasn't fazed. "How old are you boy?"

Toma blinked again in confusion.

"I asked how old you were boy," his captor said, again tightening his grip.

Toma almost starting flailing his limbs again before realizing it wouldn't do any good. The man was simply too strong.

"Twelve," he gasped. "I'm twelve years old."

"Twelve," the man murmured. "So young."

The man glanced down at the unconscious body of Torristan. "Wake up," he said, nudging him with his foot.

Torristan groaned and rolled on his back, revealing his masked face. "What?" he asked in confusion, unsure of where he was. He saw Toma.

"My Prince, what…" he began, and then screamed in pain as the man shot him in the leg.

"Torristan!" cried Toma, who kicked furiously as he saw his devoted bodyguard writhing in pain on the floor.

The grip tightened again. "Where is the water?" he asked in the same level tone.

Toma looked frantically between his captor and Torristan, torn between his duty to his kingdom and his duty to his friend.

"If you give me the water, I swear I won't hurt him anymore," his captor said almost gently.

Toma paused for a moment longer, considering his choices, before sagging in defeat. "You win," he said softly.

"Good," the man said, setting Toma on his feet. He held out a hand to stop Toma from rushing to his bodyguard, who was still moaning in pain.

"Where is the water," he said.

Toma sighed and reached for the gourd hanging at his waist. "Here," he said. "This is it."

The man snatched it from his hands, an eager look on his face as he popped the cork out. He ignored Toma as he crouched by Torristan's side. Toma looked up and watched as the man lifted the gourd and poured its contents onto his head.

The man screamed as the water worked its magic on him. Light emanated from his body in flashes as he convulsed violently. Toma stared as the man's body seemed to flicker in and out for a moment into what looked like a small duck. The duck and the man's body were still flickering in and out of existence as they seemed to suddenly separate, the man solidifying as the duck disintegrated into a wisp of steam.

The only sound in the vast, empty throneroom was the man's heavy breathing. Soon the breathing was replaced with soft, giddy bursts of laughter, almost giggles. The laugher grew until it was full blown hysterics.

Toma watched in fear, clinging to Torristan as the man stood up, still laughing. He walked slowly up to them, no longer hysterical but now grinning like a madman. He didn't stop until he was uncomfortably close to Toma and crouched down, face to face with the young prince.

"Thank you," he said simply, the grin replaced by an earnest expression.

Toma only stared back in fear. The man stood and pulled something out of his sleeve.

"This is Mousse," he said into the device. "I've captured the leader. The palace is ours."

There was a huge party thrown when they found out Mousse was no longer cursed. It began when he got back to the helicopters and didn't stop until the next morning when they got back to base. They would have arrived sooner, but some people fell out of the choppers into the sea because of the wild celebration and they had to stop to fish them out. When they did get to base, it began all over again when everyone who didn't go on the mission found out, and that didn't stop until the morning after.

Mousse lay on the couch in the rec room, exhausted from two straight days of celebration. All around him were the sleeping forms of his equally tired brothers and sisters, all of whom were ecstatic at the news of his cure. Hours of music, dancing, food, swimming, and whatever alcoholic drinks they could force on him left him a little lightheaded, but sleep couldn't find him.

He could only think about how alone he was now, in his mind. He was never lonely, he had his family near him, but the duck was gone, its presence completely disappeared from his mind. Before he could always feel it, just on the boundaries of consciousness, but now there were no thoughts but his. He reveled silently in the feeling.

Inevitably his thoughts turned to the ones who made him that way, who forced the duck onto his mind and body. The cold rage returned and his gaze hardened as he stared at the ceiling. He was stronger than any of them now. He had the ability, he had the weapons, and now the last thing standing in his way was gone.

It was time.


	7. Part VI

Author's Note: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed

Author's Note: Hi all. As you can see I've managed to get another chapter out, or at least part of one. The writer's block wasn't as bad as I thought when I stopped thinking about the plotline and instead began thinking about the characters in the plotline. All I can say without revealing too much is that some things have changed and for the better I think. Thank you for reading and I'll get the rest up as soon as I can.

_The boy stared blankly at the wall, jaw slack and eyes glazed. Ku Lon was unconcerned. The Xi Fan Xiao technique usually left its victims like this for a time. She tucked away the memory erasing herbal mixture back on the shelf. She was careful in wrapping the delicate rice paper cover over the top. Even breathing in the fumes would cause memory loss. She looked back at the boy. He was still stunned._

_Ku Lon didn't want it to come to this, but the boy had simply become too much of a nuisance for her to handle anymore. Ever since her great-granddaughter was sent away for five-year training journey all heirs to the position of Elder must take, the boy had become increasingly agitated. He tried to run after her numerous times, and it got to the point where he was forbidden from even getting close to the village boundaries. Even so, he had to be escorted five times back to his home under armed guard._

_She snorted. The boy's infatuation was disgusting to say the least. Running around blindly, crying 'Xian Pu!', and demanding to know where she was taken. The Elder finally got fed up with the entire thing. The memory erasure was only temporary, but it should give them a while of respite from the boy's annoying antics. Using such a technique on a child was highly dangerous, and forbidden in all but the most dire of circumstances, but still a far more painless alternative to what the other Elders suggested._

_Hopping closer, she studied the catatonic boy. She could see he was going to be quite handsome when he came of age, having inherited the best features from both parents. Others noticed this as well; she would often hear talk from the warriors about the young boys and which one would braid his hair for one of them first. Mu Tzu's name came up more than once. It is a shame his mother is an outsider, it has made him weak and sightless. If his fool father had simply married within the village the boy would probably not have such a hard time with the other children and most likely already have been promised to another, perhaps even her own great-granddaughter. Marriage to the heir of the only Hidden Weapons Style in existence would be a tempting offer for the parent of any young girl of the village, if only that heir were not so weak. But the way things are at least he would make a pretty husband for a warrior if not a strong one._

_The boy stirred. She stood in front of him on her staff, carefully scrutinizing his face for anything that may indicate damage. She sighed in some relief at finding nothing._

"_Mu Tzu? Are you awake?"_

_The boy blinked slowly and looked at the Elder, wiping some drool from his chin with a billowing sleeve of his robe. The uniform of his father's school of combat. She never understood why he insisted on wearing it when he only a dabbler in the art that was his birthright. He was so caught up with Xian Pu he never had time to seriously train. _

_She narrowed her eyes. Something was strange about the boy, something in his eyes. Not that he was able to see, he was still quite blind, but the frantic, obsessive energy and passion she found in no one else as young as he was completely snuffed out, replaced by an empty detachedness. She always wondered what it would be like if he turned that drive toward his art._

"_Yes?" he asked softly._

Ku Lon wondered briefly if wiping his memory clear of her great-granddaughter could have caused such a change, or if she had somehow made a mistake while carrying out the technique.

"Are you feeling alright, Mu Tzu?" she asked. "You wandered in here and bumped your head." He only looked at her with lifeless eyes. "Well, you seem to be better now," she continued, meeting his gaze evenly. "Next time be sure to keep your glasses on your head where they can do you some good."

"_Yes Elder, thank you for sharing you wisdom with me," he replied in a respectful, empty monotone. He slipped his coke-bottle glasses over his eyes, which now focused on her own. "May I leave?"_

"_Yes, of course, child," she said. "Go home now, you don't want to worry your father."_

_He nodded slowly once, like in a dream, before leaving. The child stood unsteadily at first, and almost slipped, but quickly regained his balance. He looked down at his legs as if seeing them for the first time. He then raised his hands to eye level and stared at them for a moment, turning them around to examine them like they were something totally new to him. His eyes rose to meet Ku Lon's. She saw something else there. Curiosity._

_Ku Lon remained perched on her staff, pondering over what she witnessed. It was common knowledge that if certain memories were wiped out, drastic personality changes may occur, but she never believed Mu Tzu would be affected so dramatically. Perhaps what the boy felt for Xian Pu wasn't just mere infatuation…_

_She was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of jeering. She sighed. She didn't have to look outside to see what it was. It was Lu and his friends. They had seen Mousse come here and came to bully him as they always did. Although bullying those weaker than oneself was looked down upon for females, males usually did so with impunity. Everyone knew that such was the weakness of males; they can't control their own violent impulses. She supposed she had better go out and stop it._

_Mu Tzu stood impassively inside the circle of boys, facing Lu. Lu was the leader of the group, larger than the others. The other three boys were simply toadies, cowards that only moved on Lu's command and only did something when Lu did._

_Ku Lon paused at the doorway. They hadn't noticed her yet. She was suddenly struck with a morbid curiosity about how Mu Tzu would react to this. Lu was saying something to Mu Tzu, posturing arrogantly in front of the smaller boy, when he shoved him. Mu Tzu stiffened visibly, turning taut as wire stretched to the breaking point. Assured in his own superiority over the weakling, Lu didn't see it. The toadies were jeering insults safely from the sidelines, waiting for the boy to fall. _

Encouraged by his followers, Lu shoved him again. He didn't see the sleeved arm whip up and the iron bar appear in its hand, but he did feel it when the butt end was rammed into his gut. He was doubled over gasping when Mu Tzu brought his knee sharply into his face, sending him sprawling back. He landed writhing and screaming while blood gushed from his nose.

_Ku Lon was pleasantly surprised. It seemed the boy finally learned to stand up for himself. Though his motions and choice of weapons lacked a warrior's finesse, they were controlled and very straightforward with no trace of squeamishness at hurting the other boy. Maybe there was hope for him after all._

_She wasn't as half as surprised as the other boys expecting easy sport with a weakling, who suddenly turned their leader into a bloody mess lying on the ground. Mu Tzu didn't give them time to react. He swung the iron bar in a wide arc to his right and connected with the side of one of the boy's neck, sending him reeling. He quickly turned and rushed toward the boy who had been on his left, weapon raised to bring down on his head. He instinctively raised his arm to block the attack and screamed as it struck. He fell on his backside and scrambled away while crying and clutching his ruined arm. The last one was running as fast as he could in the other direction. Mu Tzu squinted as if gauging the distance between himself and the fleeing boy and cocked his arm back to throw the bar._

_Ku Lon was suddenly there beside Mu Tzu, a withered hand held firmly around the boy's wrist. This had gone on long enough. He had passed from self-defense into brutality. The boy looked up at the Elder and she almost gasped at what she saw. Cold anger and hate was etched onto his face and didn't lessen even as she held him. Although she was much stronger, his arm strained against her grip trying to force it down, his gaze locked on hers. By then the boy had disappeared and the screaming had begun to attract the notice of the villagers._

_Finally Mu Tzu's arm relaxed and his eyes became blank again. He stood passively until she released her grip._

"_Go home," she said simply._

_He bowed and walked away silently, passing the boys he had just beaten. They looked up fearfully and scooted away as quickly as possible as he came near. He ignored them._

_A chill ran up Ku Lon's spine. He had definitely changed._

Killing his memory of Xian Pu couldn't possibly have done this. Could it? _She wondered._

_She shook herself and laughed inwardly. This was obviously a temporary situation. Soon Mu Tzu will be back to his old blind, weak self. Right now the important thing is taking care of the boys he mangled. Perhaps now they would learn to stop picking on smaller children. One could be hiding an iron bar inside his sleeve._

_She pogoed on her staff to tend to the hurt boys when she had the crawling sensation that something was watching her. She turned and saw Mu Tzu across the way, a small patch of white against the green and brown of the forest, staring at her. Even from this distance she could see he was smiling._

Cologne opened her eyes. Thunder crashed and rolled outside.

She sat up silently from her bed and reached for the staff by her bed. Lightning flashed, illuminating the hall brilliantly in blue-white light as she silently checked each room. Lin-lin and Lan-lan slept in Shampoo's room on a spare bed. The girls slept fitfully, tossing and turning and mumbling. Nightmares.

She sighed, thinking again about what the girls had gone through, what they had witnessed, only to come here where the nightmare was still walking and talking. But she wasn't going to send them to the village just yet. Mousse was still out there somewhere and there's no telling what he may do if he caught them.

She sighed again, but it came out more like a growl. She searched everywhere for the boy but there was no physical trace of him to be found. The only clue she had that he even existed was the people she questioned who saw or spoke to him, and the list wasn't encouraging. Ukyo and her transvestite waiter/waitress, Ranma's mother, and Nabiki Tendo. Ukyo and Konatsu liked him, if only because he left a considerably large sum for his meal. Nodoka said he was a nice young man and asked if Cologne knew him; she told her they were acquaintances and bade her goodbye. Nabiki was the most puzzling. When asked, the girl studied Cologne thoughtfully through half-lidded eyes for a moment, probably wondering why she would possibly be interested in him, before demanding five thousand yen for the information. Cologne grudgingly paid the sum and the girl told her he stopped by with Nodoka a few weeks ago to change into something dry after he was caught in the rain. Cologne felt the girl was keeping something from her, she could see it behind the girl's carefully neutral expression. But the girl kept her cool under the Elder's scrutiny. It was an admirable feat; most would have buckled under the pressure. Cologne felt Nabiki would have made an excellent Amazon.

The boy was getting close to Ranma. Her stomach clenched at the thought. Bringing her future son-in-law into the tribe was more important now than ever. With all the Elders dead except for herself and many the tribe's warriors along with them, it was very possible the Amazon people wouldn't recover from this blow unless they brought in new, powerful blood, even if it was male.

She contemplated the matter. The village would have to wait. They could take care of themselves; Mousse won't go back for them until he dealt with her, she knew. And he wouldn't deal with her until he dealt with her great-granddaughter. Her stomach clenched tighter. She had a good idea of what that animal would do to her if he managed to defeat Ranma for the right to her hand.

Then there was really only one thing for her to do. Make sure Ranma didn't lose.

_Mu Tzu watched as the blur he assumed to be mist creep along the ground from the springs, only to be burned away by the rising sun. Bamboo shoots reached up dozens of feet into the air. He was careful to stay away from the springs' edges, being familiar with the old legends regarding the place. He fingered the length of chain he kept in one sleeve of his voluminous robe, drawing security from its feel._

_They were late. Mousse shivered inside his robes from the damp air and raised a hand toward the sun to feel how high it had risen. His mother would be waking shortly. He swept his myopic gaze across the grounds and made ready to leave. He never believed the Elders would be so petty as to play such a simple practical joke._

"_Are you ready, child?" inquired a reedy voice._

_Mu Tzu whipped around, a knife slipping into his hand. He sheathed it when he saw the origin of the voice. Four figures appeared out of the rapidly dissipating mist, hunched and wizened by age. He strode forward cautiously, as wary of the Elders as he was of the springs._

"_I am here as you asked," he replied. "You say if I do this you promise to let my mother and I leave this place?"_

_One of the old ones nodded. "Yes. You will be given your freedom, and no longer be considered one of us."_

_He tucked his hands back in his sleeves. "Good. Now what is it I have to do?"_

"_Come closer," she beckoned._

_Mu Tzu walked forward cautiously, trying his best at scanning the ground and keeping his eyes on the Elder at the same time. The mist seemed to thicken and gather in tendrils around his ankles. He kicked at it. He thought he could actually feel it. The Elder towered over him perched on her staff, though her aged body couldn't have been any taller than his._

"_What do I have to do?" he asked. Everything suddenly seemed in focus now._

_The Elder looked down impassively. He glanced at the three others, all watching him._

_He took a half step back. _Aren't there five Elders?

_Mousse didn't have time to react before a tall form emerged from the mist, spinning a staff that struck him in the side, sending him flying through the air. Reacting out of blind instinct, Mousse flung the chain from his sleeve toward what he thought was a tall bamboo shoot. The chain caught and held. He used the momentum as the bamboo bent and righted itself to swing himself up and wrap his legs around the shoot, leaving him hanging upside down._

_He didn't have time to feel relieved at his save before he heard shouts coming from the Elders. He tilted his head up to see two of them arguing, one holding the other back and talking rapidly while the other three ran or hopped to the edge of the spring._

_Suddenly enraged at his betrayal, Mu Tzu held his arms out and a storm of blades, spikes, and chains flew out. The Elders easily blocked his attacks, but he kept flinging his motley assortment of weapons. He was vaguely aware through his haze of anger of the impossibility of escape from the Elders._

_Under the hail of weapons the tall Elder had had enough and moved forward, striking the bamboo with the sharp point of her staff. Mu Tzu paused in his assault as he felt his support collapsing beneath him. Another jab of the staff and the bamboo stalk was pushed neatly from the break, sending its length plunging into the spring, Mu Tzu with it._

_Mu Tzu screamed as he rushed toward the spring and got a final wild, upside down look at the Elders and the rest of the world before the water covered him, the light of the sun fading from under him as he was dragged into the bottomless dark._

Mousse opened his eyes. Thunder crashed and rolled outside.

He no longer screamed when he had the nightmares. They were always the same tired, old horrors playing themselves out again and again. It was more ritual than anything; the nightmare would emerge from the black edges of sleep, perform, and return. He couldn't remember when it stopped dancing and cavorting in his mind, taunting him with his memories, and instead became a business appointment that would arrive punctually almost every night. But it was still a nightmare, even if it was a particularly mild one compared to others he had, ones that involved demon elders, water that came to life in the form of reaching tentacles, and a duck that would either swallow him whole or fly into his mouth and force its way into his belly.

He sat up in his bed and set his feet down on the rich maroon carpet that covered his room. He turned the lamp on, which almost managed to light up the room but left dark corners and edges. The light hit the chandelier a good twenty feet above him and the crystals sparkled softly. He stayed in one of the more lavishly appointed suites in Tokyo at the modest price of a few million yen a night. He knew they would have charged him much more if they hadn't known exactly who he and his family were. As it was, they gave him a large discount on their best room and a very attentive, very frightened personal staff.

He walked over to the balcony door and stepped out, almost immediately getting soaked by the driving rain. It pleased him. Even after all this time he couldn't quite accept the fact that he was no longer cursed.

He opened his eyes. The magnificent Tokyo skyline paled in comparison to nature's lightshow above it. Lightning dueled in their delicate swordplay, flashing blue and white as they danced around each other, lighting up the sky.

He felt the sudden urge to draw it. He wanted to run in, grab a sketchpad and pencil, and draw the lightning. But he didn't move. He was still enjoying the feeling of cold water on his skin.

Inevitably he even became bored and stepped back in. After toweling off and putting on a pair of pants he flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He was bored. Completely and utterly bored. The past few weeks trudged on while he recovered. The nightlife bored him and while practicing his art helped pass the time he couldn't get nearly the workout he wanted. At least he wasn't coughing up blood anymore.

Cloth rustled gently at the far corner of the bed and a small, dark shadow with gold-green eyes detached itself from the rest. The shadow padded over to him and leaped onto his chest. Mousse smiled and scratched it behind the ear. The black kitten mewed and began purring softly, eventually falling back asleep.

He didn't know why he took in the stray. Maybe it was the simple need for companionship, but he doubted it. Mousse found it in an alley while taking a walk, gazing steadily up at him with slitted eyes. He had stopped and stared back. He didn't know how long he stood there staring at an alley cat like an idiot before he picked it up and took it home. He named it Lucifer. It seemed to like the name.

He sighed heavily. Even raising a pet, something he had never done until now, was beginning to become routine. He enjoyed the company the little cat provided but he was still bored most of the time.

"What do you think, Lucifer?" he asked absently.

The cat opened its eyes at the sound of its name and closed them again when he saw nothing of importance. It stretched and shifted into a more comfortable position.

Mousse turned his head to see the books piled on his lamp table. _The Illiad, Seven Military Classics, _all five books of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Trilogy, _and many others lay there, all read through from front to back. He was really bored.

He suddenly thought of Nabiki, the girl he met in Nerima. Warmth rushed to his face as he recalled that moment in the bathroom. He wondered if she still remembered him as well as he remembered her. He flicked his wrist and the card she gave him snapped into existence between his first two fingers.

Tendo Information Service. Perhaps it's time to schedule an appointment.

A loud crash of thunder almost drowned out the telephone's first ring.

"Yes?"

"The report is in, sir," Mori replied on the other end.

He liked Mori. Efficient, unflappable, professional, and gifted with an uncanny ability to gather information, the old man was the consummate personal spy. He had to be. He was previously under the employ of the late Yakuza crime boss Jinai for three years, a black-tempered, and some say insane, man that went through employees like a wino went through cheap alcohol. That Mori managed to survive for three years where few lasted three months made him a legend in some circles. After Jinai's unfortunate death involving an American car he owned, (apparently faulty American engineering was all the evidence the police needed) Mori hired his services out to various other Yakuza, always carrying out his tasks impeccably and only moving on when a better offer was made. He wouldn't betray his employer, but he would not stay any longer if he could do better elsewhere. That was another reason Mousse liked him. He was loyal only to coin, which made him all the more trustworthy, because he knew no one would pay him as much as Mousse for such a simple job.

"Go ahead."

"The restaurant has remained quiet for the past few weeks. It is no longer open for business, though there are people still inside. Occasionally one of the girls would leave for supplies, or the young lady would go to one of the local high schools, but that is all."

"They haven't seen the old one?"

"No sir."

"You're certain."

Mousse could almost hear him draw up in indignation. "I am most certain, sir."

"Is there anything else?"

"The men are demanding double for their services. Nerima makes them nervous."

That was just like Mori. There was no roundabout way of doing things with him.

"Very well, you have my pin number." Mousse made to hang up the phone and paused. "One more thing. You said the girl went to of the high schools. Which one?"

"I believe it was Furinkan, sir."

"How often does she go?"

"Everyday, sir"

"Thank you Mori. Pay the men and keep them watching the place. If anything happens I want you to report immediately."

He hung up. It looked as though he would have to postpone that appointment with Miss Tendo. Lucifer was awake again, standing on his chest and sniffing curiously at his face. It batted at his nose. He pushed it away in annoyance and the cat latched playfully onto his hand with its paws. He was suddenly glad he declawed the thing earlier. Even so, it took some shaking to disengage the creature. It landed on its feet smoothly, looking back with the smug expression all cats have. Sometimes Mousse thought the kitten was more intelligent than it looked.

"Furinkan High School," he mused to himself. The corners of his mouth turned up. "I think maybe it's time I got myself an education."

"Mr. Sun?"

The voice swam through the strains of violin that for the moment made up Mousse's world. He opened his eyes and saw the secretary halfway standing up from her chair, as though she was about to stand up and walk over to him. He wondered how many times she called his name. He removed the headphones.

"Yes ma'am?"

"The vice principal will see you now," the small, waspish woman said, sitting back down with an annoyed expression. "So take that thing off and mind your manners."

He ignored her and walked past into the office before she was finished speaking. She wasn't the only unpleasant member of the staff he had met. It seemed everyone employed by the school was generally unhappy and more than a little tense. Sometimes he would overhear pieces of conversation that would mention 'principal', or 'little girl', or 'martial artists.'

The vice principal was a short, nervous man with a long nose and a pair of huge two front teeth. He reminded Mousse of a rat.

"Good morning, Mr. Sun," he said. He gestured to a chair. "Please have a seat."

Mousse took a seat and waited for him to continue speaking. He noticed the man had a nervous tick below his eye that would also make his nose twitch. The vice principal more and more resembled a rat wearing a suit.

"Your test scores are very impressive, Mr. Sun, and I'm sure that…"

Mousse tuned the rat's voice out and let himself drift. He had never been to a public school, and so far he had no idea what he missed by never taking it. They had scheduled him to come early in the morning to take a placement test that would have been better suited for lab animals, and then made him wait for over an hour while they graded and checked it twice. The test was so simple he deliberately missed a few so that he wouldn't be recommended for a higher level education at another school or university.

He nodded and pretended to look interested at the vice principal's words. His plan had been simple. Find Ranma and when Shampoo showed up, defeat him and claim her as his fiancé. Simple. And as a bonus he would learn what it was like to attend a public school. Now he was thinking if it wouldn't have been easier to simply challenge Ranma at some random time.

"…so we created a schedule that is concurrent with your abilities as a student."

The man slid a sheet of paper across the desk. Mousse took it and gave it a quick glance. He had to stifle a laugh. He could imagine what Provost Stukov would have done if he saw this list of classes. The diminutive, unkempt man would probably rant and rave, screaming in a mix of English and Russian the way he does when he's angry, before he passes out or lunges across the desk to strangle man who would give one of his students such elementary classes. The last part was a stretch of the imagination but it was still funny.

Mousse, still grinning at the mental image of his teacher actually committing any form of violence, didn't hear what the vice principal said.

"Excuse me," he said.

"I said your locker number is on the sheet and you must get your books from the depository on the first floor," the vice principal said. He twitched. "You might want to hurry, your first class begins in five minutes."

Mousse stood and bowed. "Thank you, sir."

The halls were empty save for a few stragglers rushing to their classes before the bell rang. Mousse took his time passing through. He knew he wouldn't be missing anything of importance. He glanced at his schedule sheet. English with Ms. Ninomiya Hinako was first. He paused near a window. His near transparent reflection stared back at him, dressed immaculately in a dark blue suit worn by students and hair combed and bound back neatly. He brushed some imaginary lint from his shoulder and straightened his jacket.

_Perfect_, he thought, pushing his glasses up further along his nose. The bell rang. He shrugged, unconcerned, and took his time going up the two flights of stairs leading to his class.

Mousse was fifteen minutes late for his first class. He was expecting the lesson to be well under way, so he was surprised to find that the room was still alive with the noise of students still chattering amongst themselves. The noise lulled for a moment as the students stopped talking to see the newcomer, but quickly picked up where it left off. He walked to the back of the class, conscious of the curious looks the other students gave him. He sat beside a skinny, hunched boy with dark rings under his eyes. The boy glanced at him nervously before turning his attention back to a thick, black bound book he was reading.

Mousse pulled out his own English book. He froze in disbelief when he saw the cover. On the front was a picture of a sailboat tossing on a bright blue sea with a sunrise in the background. Above it, emblazoned in bright yellow were the words, '_Sunlize!',_ and below that '_Engrish Revel 3'_. Stukov would have cried.

"I can't believe we're late again! Why do you always have to pick on Ryoga whenever you see him?"

"Aw calm down Akane. It's not like the teach is gonna be there anyway. And besides he was the one that started it."

"Ranchan! I brought you a lunch, what took you so long?"

"Oh, hey Ucchan, I just got held up that's all."

Mousse tore his unbelieving gaze from the book and looked up to see Ranma, Ucchan, and the pretty girl wielding the huge mallet from outside Ucchan's restaurant. Ucchan still had that huge spatula strapped to her back over a boy's uniform. The girl was dressed normally in a blue school dress while Ranma was dressed in an old-fashioned red Chinese shirt with small wooden pegs used as buttons and loose-fitting pants.

Mousse smirked. _Target acquired._

Ranma leaped over the desks, turning his body smoothly in midair to land in the seat in front of Mousse. He twisted around to face him.

"Hey how ya doin'?" he greeted cheerfully. "You new here?"

"You could say that," he said, grinning.

A confused look passed over Ranma's face. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Mousse!" Ucchan cried, running up.

Mousse turned and bowed his head. "It's good to see you Ucchan. How's business?"

"Oh, it's great," she said. "Did you just enroll here?"

"Just today. My family insisted I catch up on missing school time so here I am."

"Uh, Mousse, about that okonomiyaki you ate, I think you paid a little too much…"

Mousse waved his hand dismissively. "It was worth every yen, Ucchan. Don't worry about it."

"Well okay, if you say so," she said. "But it still feels like I'm overcharging."

"Like I said, don't worry about it."

"Hey, yeah that's right, you're Mousse," Ranma said, butting in. Man, I almost didn't recognize you."

Mousse shrugged. "It has been a few weeks since last we met." He leaned forward. "Tell me, how is your fiancé doing?"

"Huh? Oh." Ranma laughed. "Which one?"

Mousse blinked. _Which one? What does he mean?_

"Who's your friend, Ranma?" asked the pretty girl with short hair.

"Oh yeah, Mousse meet Akane, Akane meet Mousse," Ranma said.

She smiled and nodded. "Hello Mousse."

He smiled back. "Hello Akane." She was very cute, and somehow familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he'd seen her before.

"So, where is the teacher?" Mousse asked.

Ranma shrugged. "She probably overslept again. She does that sometimes."

Mousse was beginning to suspect that everything he heard about the quality of Japanese schools was a bunch of crap.

"Good morning class!"

The talking immediately stopped while everyone scrambled for their seats. Mousse looked around confusedly. Why should the students be concerned about such a lax teacher?

His mouth dropped open when he saw he short figure striding out of the door to the front of the class. It was a little girl. She couldn't have even been into her teens yet, but she carried the enrollment pad and teacher's edition of the textbook all the students had. He looked around and saw that everyone was paying perfect attention to her. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. She was still a little girl. He turned his head to look at Ucchan and pointed at the teacher. She nodded soberly at him. Stukov would have wept uncontrollably.

"I see we have a new student!" Hinako said, marking the attendance sheet. "Will Sun Mousse please stand up?"

Mousse put on his best smile walked to the front of the class. "Hi."

"Hi Mousse!" said the entire class. Some of the girls leaned over their seats to talk to each other. They giggled while stealing quick glances at him. Mousse felt his face turning slightly red.

"So do you want to tell us about yourself, Mousse?" asked the teacher, looking up at him with open curiosity.

He cleared his throat. "Well, I was born in China but my family and I moved around a lot."

"Really? Where?" she asked again, eyes wide.

"Nowhere in particular," he said, and began counting off his fingers. "We've been to the United States, England, France, Russia…"

"Wow really!?" she exclaimed. She wasn't alone. The rest of the class was also leaning forward in interest.

Feeling more confident, he nodded. "Oh, yeah. We were traveling performers, so we were always on the move. Would you like to see a trick?"

He flicked his wrist and colorful strips of silk tied end to end flew out to be caught by his other hand. He then gathered the cloth and brought his hands together. When he flung out his arms a single, pure white dove flew up and out the window. He bowed to the wild applause of the class.

"That is so _cool!_" Hinako exclaimed, jumping up and down and eyes shining. "Do another, please?"

"Shouldn't we be starting class now?" he replied dubiously.

"Just one more. _Please?"_

"Well, alright I guess…"

And so half of the class period passed on with Mousse performing various magical tricks to the delight of the class and teacher. He didn't mind, he enjoyed the applause and admiration, and he doubted if he would have learned anything from the class anyway. He was about to pull a bouquet of roses from a coffee cup when the P.A. turned on.

"Will da new student please report to da principal's office immediately."

Mousse paused in his trick and shrugged. "Well, I guess I'd better get going." He looked at the suddenly gloomy class. He didn't like the way they were looking at him. It almost looked like…pity.

"Come back soon, Mousse!" Hinako said cheerfully, oblivious to the sudden change in mood in the class. "Okay class, open your books to page fifty-five…"

Mousse was finally convinced. Everyone in the school was completely insane.

"Aloha!"

He winced at the horrible Hawaiian/Caribbean accent the man seated across from him had.

"Hi," he said.

"So you be da new keike, dat right?" The darkly tanned man was comically dressed in a flower print shirt and shorts, and in place of a topknot he had a miniature palm tree on top of his head.

"Yes, that's right," he answered.

"Dat be good, so you like Furinkan so far, do you keike?"

A faint throbbing materialized in Mousse's head. The man's mix of Japanese and bastardized Hawaiian/Caribbean was beginning to grate on him. Even the room, set in a tropical beach motif complete with sand and a wall painting with surf and bright yellow sun, was obnoxious.

"Yes, it's a very nice school."

"And you be a good student, right? You follow da rules, right?" The eyes behind his shades looked at him eagerly.

"Yeah," Mousse said slowly, suspicious.

"Good!" The principal exclaimed, jumping up. "Then you know dere is new rule for new students!"

"There is?"

"Yah." He pulled out a pair of scissors and shaver. "All boys get buzz cuts and all girls get bowl cuts!"

Mousse stared at him flatly. _Insane._

"So we begin now, yah?" The principal said, a gleam in his eye.

Mousse had enough. "You're absolutely right, principal, I should follow the rules. But can I ask you something first?"

"Yah, go ahead," the principal said, delighted this one was going ahead willingly.

"I noticed your door is rather heavy. Is it soundproofed by chance?"

"Ah, yes da door is soundproofed," he said, confused at the question. "Can't be havin' da keikes distracting da ones in class. Why you want to know?"

"No reason," he said. His lips thinned into a cruel, white smile as he stood up. "I just don't want anyone to disturb us."

Outside the principal's office, the various students called in were growing nervous. It had already been half an hour since the new guy went in. Some looked at each other and shook their heads. Who knows what that maniac was doing to the poor guy.

They jumped in surprise as the P.A. speaker crackled to life.

"All students and faculty please report to the auditorium for an emergency meeting."

The students turned to each other in confusion. That didn't sound like the principal's voice.

The auditorium was filling rapidly with students and teachers happy to be away from their daily lessons. Ranma slouched lazily in the chair between Ukyo and Akane, while searching warily for Kuno. He didn't feel like fighting that idiot today.

"So what do you think?" Akane asked.

Ranma shrugged. "Who knows, probably the principal just playing a joke or somethin'."

"I don't know, it didn't sound like his voice." Her hands twisted in her lap worriedly. "I wonder what he did to Mousse."

Ranma glanced at her, and for a moment was caught up in how cute she looked when she was worried.

"Aw, he'll be alright Akane," he said, shaking his head to lose that feeling he got whenever he thought she looked cute. "I think he can take care of himself."

Akane opened her mouth to ask him why when the lights suddenly dimmed and the curtains raised to reveal the principal standing behind a podium. There was a collective gasp from the audience. He was bald.

"Good morning ke-, er students of Furinkan," he said. The lights from the ceiling reflected off his head. He was sweating profusely and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of the suit he wore in place of his Hawaiian outfit.

"Whoa," Ranma breathed. Ukyo and Akane could only nod mutely in agreement.

"It has come to my attention that I have not been setting a good example for my students," the principal said haltingly. He glanced nervously toward the back and licked his lips. "So I have decided to strive to become the role model a principal should be."

The audience was completely mute.

"It will take much effort to accomplish this however, and I must leave the school for a time. So in my absence I have appointed someone to take my place. Please welcome my junior administrator, Mr. Sun Mu Tzu."

The principal stepped away from the podium as Mousse walked out of the back. He stopped at the podium and smiled at his captive audience.

Ranma leaned forward in his chair. _No way._

"I guess you were right, Ranchan," Ukyo murmured. "He can take care of himself."

"Greetings my fellow classmates," he said. "Since the principal will be absent for a time, I will be in charge. If there is anything at all you need or would like to ask me, please feel free to drop by my office. Any questions?"

The auditorium was still silent.

Ranma watched as Mousse's eyes roamed the audience, until they rested on him. He felt a chill sliver up his spine as Mousse smiled thinly.

"Very well. School dismissed."Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	8. Part VII

Author's Note: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed

"Here you go Kuno, only eight thousand yen each."

Nabiki waved a handful of very sordid pictures of Ranma in his cursed form tantalizingly in front of the face of a blustering Kuno.

"Eight thousand!" he exclaimed incredulously, his face screwed up in indecision between taking the pictures and refusing the outrageous offer. "This is highway robbery!"

Nabiki shrugged. "If you don't want them…"

"Wait!" He looked almost ready to say something, but his shoulders sagged. "Alright I'll take them."

"That's why I like doing business with you, Kuno-baby," she said, handing over the pictures and taking the roll of yen notes he held out.

"But I want a discount next time!" shouted the hakama-clad kendoist.

"Sure thing," Nabiki said absently, counting out the yen.

"Nabiki!"

Nabiki looked up, annoyed at the disturbance. It was Sakuya, one of her junior partners in their bookie business, running toward her at full speed. The girl stopped panting in front of her, hands on her knees from the exertion.

"Nabiki…" she gasped. "Principal… head… new guy…"

"Calm down Sakuya," Nabiki said, resuming her count. "Catch your breath and then talk."

Sakuya nodded and after a few moments of heavy breathing, she began talking again.

"It's the principal!" she cried. "You have to see him!"

"What about him?" Nabiki replied absently.

"Yes, what about the principal?" asked Kuno, pictures momentarily forgotten. Something that may have been concern was in his voice.

"He shaved his head!"

Nabiki lost count and Kuno gasped.

"Are you certain?" Kuno questioned sharply.

Sakuya nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, he was completely bald! Something about setting a good example for the students."

"That's nonsense," Kuno said. "My father would never… I mean the principal…"

"Is that all or is there more?" Nabiki asked over Kuno's stammering.

Sakuya nodded again. "He said he's going on vacation and he's leaving a new student in charge."

"What! How dare he… excuse me fair ladies but I must go." He took off down the hall.

"New guy?" Nabiki asked, ignoring Kuno. She was counting her money again. "What new guy?"

Sakuya shrugged. "I don't know, I just saw him now. They say he's from China or something. His name is Sun Moo-suh or something like that."

Nabiki froze, and then frowned in annoyance when she realized she lost count again. "His name is Mousse? Long hair, tall, wears a black coat?"

Sakuya nodded. "That sounds like him, but he was wearing a student uniform. Do you know him?"

"We've met. Thank you for the information. I'll see you later."

"Okay," Sakuya said, puzzled. "I'll see you later."

When she was gone, Nabiki put the money away. She didn't have to worry about Kuno cheating her. She could hear the dull roar of students returning to class, which meant the convocation was over. A slight smile crept onto her face as she made her way to the principal's office.

"Are there any questions?" Mousse scanned the gathered student body. He found Ranma momentarily, seated with the girls Ukyo and Akane and looking as amazed as everyone else. He smiled thinly as their eyes connected.

"Very well. All classes are dismissed. Have a nice day."

With that he turned and walked behind the curtain to the back entrance. The principal stood there, head bowed meekly. The ceiling lights reflected off his freshly shaved head.

"Come on," Mousse ordered sharply. The principal jumped as if startled and followed a respectful distance behind. It was amazing how a little pain and humiliation can change someone. The excited clamor of the students soon faded behind them as they passed from the back of the auditorium into the halls.

"You will take a vacation," Mousse said, not bothering to look back. "You will leave and you will not come back until next year. Understood?"

"Yes sir," came the quiet reply.

"And when you come back you will no longer act like a retard. If I come back and see you wearing that moronic outfit again or if I hear even a trace of an accent in your voice, I will kill you. Understood?"

"Yes sir." His voice quavered slightly.

Mousse stopped abruptly in front of the principal's office. The principal almost stumbled to keep from bumping into him and drew back suddenly as Mousse whirled around.

"What are you waiting for? Leave."

Mousse watched in satisfaction as the man started running, almost tripping over a garbage can.

"Nice to see you're making friends here."

Mousse turned in surprise, having heard no one approach. He blinked as he saw Nabiki standing there, looking after the rapidly retreating form of the principal.

When he was gone, she looked at him in the same appraising way she did the first time they met. She circled around him slowly, looking him up and down. Mousse stood there silently, unsure of what to do. She finally stopped in front in him and straightened out his collar.

"Very nice," she said, brushing some lint from his shoulder. "You look good like this."

"Thanks," Mousse replied, still unsure of himself. "You're looking good too, Nabiki."

She smirked while tucking a stray hair behind his ear. "Flattery will almost get you everywhere," she said, hooking her arm around his. "Come on."

They walked together through the halls, which were rapidly filling with students at their lockers packing bookbags to go home. Several waved at the new junior administrator while others stared at the two walking arm in arm.

"Where are they going?" Nabiki asked.

"I dismissed school for the rest of the day," Mousse replied, nodding at the students.

"That was very generous of you," Nabiki said, a slight tone of surprise in her voice.

Mousse shrugged. "I thought the principal having such a change of heart was cause enough for a holiday."

"It is," Nabiki agreed. "Of course, you wouldn't have anything to do with the principal's new values, now would you?"

He smirked. "Well, I may have played some minor role in persuading him. People have told me I can be very convincing when I want to be."

"I bet you are. So why did you enroll here?"

He laughed. "As fascinating as Japanese daytime television is, after watching the Super Mega Fighting Seizure Robots save Tokyo from a giant hamster monster for the fifth time, I did get kind of bored."

Nabiki laughed along with him. "I see. But then why didn't you pay us a visit if you were so bored? Auntie Nodoka would have liked to have seen you again."

Mousse's expression turned serious. "Because I don't think it would have been a good idea for me to be around anyone," he said quietly. He glanced sideways at her. "But if you're not too busy, I'd like to make it up to you."

"Really?" She looked interested. "How?"

"How about I treat you to dinner this Friday?"

"I suppose that will do. Anywhere in particular?"

He shrugged. "I'll send the limo to pick you up and we'll decide from there."

"That sounds good." She frowned. "Did you say limo?"

"Yes, limo." He grinned. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I must get going."

Nabiki was about to say something, but he had already gently disengaged his arm from hers and was hurrying back toward the principal's office. She frowned after him. Maybe he was just trying to impress her, but it didn't quite feel like it. There was something more to him than met the eye. She shrugged. She would find out sooner or later. Until then, all she could do was wait.

Mousse locked the door behind him and began carefully searching the principal's room. Satisfied no one else was in the room with him, he looked out the window and down at the home bound students. Seeing that Ranma had not yet left, he sat in the principal's chair and prepared himself for the task ahead.

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled out the vial containing the drug. Cloudy red fluid filled the glass container. Looking closely he could see the drug churned restlessly, like fire trapped in liquid form trying to break free. He closed his eyes as he felt himself getting lost within the swirling patterns forming and shuddered. Sometimes he could swear it was trying to draw him in. There was a good reason why it was called Burning Red.

Shaking off his fear, he pulled out a hypodermic needle and attached the vial, squirting out a small amount of the viscous fluid to test it. The droplets sizzled as they hit the wooden desk, creating tendrils of smoke that curled up toward the ceiling before dissipating. He shuddered again. He hated this part.

Quickly and without thinking, he jabbed the needle into his neck and pumped the Burning Red in. He gasped and gripped the armrest of the chair with his free hand. He heard it crack and crumble in his grip. His legs jerked as he felt the drug circulate slowly through his system, taking its time, burning like magma through each of his veins. He grit his teeth and forced himself to take it. He had to draw out every bit of the drug or it would burn him up inside. The pain lasted forever.

An instant later, it was over. The only sound in his room was his harsh breathing as he sagged back in the chair. He looked down to see his hand holding the crushed remains of the armrest in a deathgrip. He stood up slowly, brushing his hands off and smoothing out his jacket. In his peripheral vision he could detect a slight reddish ting forming. It wouldn't be long now.

He walked over to the window. This time the students were out in full force, eager to enjoy their free day to the fullest. He could see every student, hear their voices, even smell them. But most of all, he felt their life pulsing in each and every one of them. They were bright points of light moving in a sea of softly glowing mist, signaling to each other merrily as they celebrated life. And among them was one light, a sun among stars, brighter and stronger than all the others. A brief, indescribable emotion passed over Mousse's face as he found his target. He jumped out of the third story window into the sea of light.

Ranma froze. _What was _that_!?_

He looked around wildly. He felt something, something powerful, but it was there and gone so quickly he was tempted to write it off to his imagination. It couldn't have been a battle aura, one that strong would destroy whoever created it in an instant. Besides it didn't feel like any battle aura he's ever felt before; it was like…fire…

"Ranma, did you feel that?" asked Akane worriedly.

"Yeah what was that?" Ukyo breathed.

A tingle went up his spine. He wasn't the only one. It wasn't his imagination.

"I don't know," he replied. He looked at the two. "Maybe we should hurry back."

"Hurry where?" queried a voice from behind them.

They jumped slightly and turned around to see Mousse standing behind them.

"Oh, hey, junior administrator," greeted Ranma. He took a deep breath. "Man you scared us there."

"Sorry. Walk with me for a while, Ranma," he said. "I need to speak with you alone."

He bowed his head toward the two girls. "Forgive me, ladies, but there is some business I must discuss with Mr. Saotome."

"Ah, okay," Ukyo replied while Akane simply nodded.

Mousse smiled and gestured to Ranma. "Come on."

The two walked ahead of the group of students, who kept a respectful distance back. Mousse said nothing while they walked, and Ranma was becoming nervous.

"So, what did you need to talk to me about?" He grimaced. "You're not gonna gimme a lecture on my grades are ya?"

Mousse laughed. The sound was sharp in Ranma's ears.

"No, nothing like that," Mousse said, grinning. His grin looked too feral in Ranma's opinion, like he might go for his throat at any moment. "It's something a little more…"

Mousse stopped suddenly, his face set into a glare. When Ranma saw what he was looking at he groaned. It was Kuno and his kendo club blocking their way. Kuno looked ready to give them one of his infamous speeches.

Ranma stepped forward to confront Kuno, but Mousse held out an arm to stop him.

"I'll handle him," he said tersely.

Ranma nodded and stepped back. The glare had turned into a deep scowl. He didn't know whether or not Mousse could fight, but he still didn't try to interfere. His eyes flickered with something that felt like rage. He looked like he was ready to kill.

The drug was in full swing by the time Mousse landed silently behind Ranma and his friends. He was surprised. Usually the drug took longer to fully seep into the body. He guessed it was because his body was becoming accustomed to it. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

The pain was replaced by euphoria. It felt like he was swelling, becoming larger, and everything around him became as insignificant as the buzzing of flies. The lights around him became dim as his own light flared and danced, drowning them out. The red at the edge of his vision became more pronounced. He was becoming a god. He hated that feeling, hated it more than the pain. It was just another side effect, one of many, but by far the most sinister. It was the feeling of losing control. He knew he couldn't fully control the Burning Red; the strain of trying to keep it obedient to his will would drive him insane. But he also knew he couldn't let it run free, or it would consume him. He had to ride it; let it have its way but never let the undercurrents it created in his mind drag him under. It was a dangerous tightrope to walk.

He knew he was acting strangely around Ranma and his friends, but he was unconcerned. He was beyond them now. All that was left was to defeat Ranma and claim the old hag's spawn as his own. He frowned. What was her name again…?

He stopped. A group of boys dressed in hakamas stood in front of them, armed with bokkens set in ready stance. At the front was the leader, tall, with aristocratic features set in a haughty expression. He looked prepared to give a speech. Mousse scowled. He heard about this one. Kuno Tatewaki, captain of the kendo club and all around ass. Ranma moved forward to confront him, but Mousse held out his arm. He wanted to handle this one.

"You're blocking my path," he said quietly.

Kuno looked down haughtily. "So you are the junior administrator, Mousse was it?" He snorted disdainfully. "I find it hard to believe that a new student of lowborn station such as yourself could become junior administrator on your first day. Just so you know, you have no authority…"

Mousse was seething with barely contained anger. He wanted nothing more than to decorate the school with the arrogant kendoist's innards, but kept himself in check when he saw that his vision was beginning to cloud over with red. He retreated back into the cold, sterile part of his mind where he could still think rationally.

_Stay frosty. He isn't worth it._

"You're a kendoist," Mousse said in the middle of Kuno's speech.

Kuno scowled, annoyed at the interruption. "I am _captain_ of the Furinkan Kendo Club, The Blue Thunder, Kuno Tatewaki. You will address me with the proper respect…"

"I despise kendoists," Mousse said flatly. "To me you're something between a cockroach and the white stuff that forms on the corner of your mouth when you get thirsty. Now step back."

There was a collective gasp among the students as the words left his mouth. Even some of the other kendoists edged away nervously at the expression on Kuno's face.

"How dare you, vile miscreant!" he shouted, raising his bokken. "I shall punish you for your slander against the most noble of arts!"

Mousse stepped forward smoothly, raising his hand to catch Kuno's wrist as it came down. A quick jerk was all it took to send an amazed Kuno flying through the air and into a nearby tree. He hit the wood hard, the whole tree shuddering noticeably from the impact, and dropped to the ground motionless.

Mousse turned to the other kendoists and waited, hands clasped behind his back. The few brave ones that stayed after that display hurried to carry away the unconscious Kuno.

"Shall we continue?" Mousse asked a surprised Ranma, who nodded and followed him wordlessly.

Cologne's eyes snapped up from the scroll. A veritable bonfire of barely controlled chi suddenly burst into existence and was gone again before she could pinpoint its location. But she already knew where it was coming from. He was at the school.

Shampoo and the twins charged down the stairs, almost falling over each other to see Cologne.

"What was that, Grandmother?" asked Shampoo breathlessly.

Cologne set aside the scroll. "It's him. He's after son-in-law."

Shampoo gasped. "That was Mousse? I have to help Ranma, Mousse will kill him!"

"Patience child," she replied, and turned to the twins. "Remember what I told you. He should be busy now, but don't draw needless attention to yourselves. I'm counting on you."

Lin-lin and Ran-ran nodded, with a slight trace of fear in their eyes, before running out the door. Shampoo gave a questioning look to Cologne, who was already leaving.

"Come," she said. "We must stop this before it gets beyond our control."

Ranma fidgeted nervously as they walked down the street. Mousse had gone up ahead a few steps, not so much as glancing back to make sure he was still following. He glanced back and saw Ukyo and Akane following them, nervous expressions on their face as well, and behind them the rest of students. They must have made a strange procession walking down the streets like that, a parade of eerily quiet students.

They were going to fight. Ranma knew that now. He didn't know how he knew; maybe it was how Mousse had handled Kuno, or maybe it was the air of eager anticipation that seemed to surround him, but he knew they were going to fight for whatever reason and there was nothing he could do to avoid it. He wasn't afraid. What he felt was more like an odd expectation. The quiet suddenly seemed more like the calm before a storm.

Mousse suddenly stopped at the corner. Ranma came up beside him and cast a sideway glance at him. He was looking straight ahead, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. They waited there silently. Ranma heard the crowd come up behind them and stop a few feet away. Ranma cleared his throat to speak when he heard a distant, somehow familiar sound drawing near. His eyes widened as a long, sleek black limousine drew up along the sidewalk and came to a stop beside them. The tinted driver's side window came down, revealing an older man with white hair and thin, neatly clipped moustache.

"I take it the guests have not arrived yet, sir?" the man inquired.

"Not yet, Mori," Mousse said. "Park somewhere out of the way, this should not take long."

"Yes, sir." The window came up and the limo moved slowly down the empty street.

Ranma gaped. "You have a limo? And a butler?"

Mousse nodded. "Yes." His eyes flickered up and to the side. "They're here."

Ranma looked puzzled before he felt the familiar auras of Cologne and Shampoo approaching.

_What do they have to do with this?_

Cologne and Shampoo appeared on the roof of a building across the street, leaping easily to the sidewalk. They came forward, Cologne glowering on her staff and Shampoo pensive, but stopped short of arm's length from them.

"What are you doing here, boy?" rasped Cologne.

"You know why I'm here," Mousse answered. He nodded at Shampoo, who drew back instinctively. "I'm here to take what's mine. Will you give her to me or must I take her by force?"

Cologne laughed. "Foolish boy. She is not yours, she never has and she never will be."

Mousse smirked. "I'll take that as a no." He turned to Ranma. "Saotome Ranma, I hereby challenge you for the hand of… (_What was her name?_)… your fiancée."

Ranma nodded. "You know, I somehow knew this was going to happen," he said thoughtfully. He assumed his ready stance. "Very well. In the name of the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts, I accept."

"I forbid it," said Cologne.

"Huh?" Ranma managed. Mousse glanced sharply at her.

"It is my belief that you do not intend to marry my great-granddaughter and make the tribe stronger," she stated. "You only wish to hurt me in your personal vendetta by taking her away from me. As an Elder of the Amazon tribe, I forbid it."

"You figured all that out by yourself, amazing," Mousse sneered. "Your position as Elder means shit to me, but I'll play that game. I demand the right of challenge upon the honor of my Amazon lineage, through my father, Sun Li Mu, and his father, Han Bai Chang. Do you refuse me?"

Cologne's mouth worked but no sound came out. _How did he know that?_

"Uh-oh, looks like somebody's been doing their homework," Mousse said mockingly. "Now you haven't answered my question. Do you refuse me my right?"

Shampoo, who had been watching the whole exchange with a mix of silent fear and confusion, bent down to ask Cologne something, who waved her off angrily.

"You cannot call upon that right," she said. "You're…"

"Dead?" Mousse finished for her. He looked genuinely surprised. "Really? Are you sure? Let's see now, I'm breathing, I have a pulse, I can respond to outside stimuli, I want to kill you…no, I have to disagree with you. I think I'm very much alive." He grinned madly. "Now back to my question. Do you refuse me my right?"

"You know I cannot," Cologne growled after a moment of angry silence. "But since you called upon your right, you know that I will set the terms for the match."

"Of course," Mousse laughed. "As if it would make a difference."

Cologne seethed for a moment. "I have two conditions. First, this match will be hand-to-hand only. No weapons."

Mousse shrugged. "Kicking it old school, huh? Good enough for me."

"Second, you will be disabled for the match."

Mousse raised an eyebrow. "How will you do that?"

"Hold still," Cologne said. Her hand blurred and an instant later a dart was buried in Mousse's right thigh.

Mousse winced slightly but his gaze never wavered. He yanked the long-hafted dart from his leg. The wound began flowing blood freely.

"I'll be taking that out on your great-granddaughter when I'm done," he said.

"If you survive, boy," she retorted. "Let the match begin."

"Hey, hold it," said Ranma. He gestured at Mousse. "I'm not gonna fight him like that, he's wounded!"

Cologne hopped close enough to him until she was able to whisper in his ear. "You can and you will fight him. He is dangerous, son-in-law, more dangerous than you know. I evened the playing field for you but you must finish him quickly. Do it for Shampoo. Please son-in-law, I'm begging you."

Ranma blinked, not expecting Cologne of all people to say something like that. Something in her voice, like desperation, decided him. "All right, I'll do it. But this still don't feel right."

Cologne sighed in relief. "Thank you, son-in-law. Remember, finish him quickly."

Ranma nodded and reassumed his ready stance, feet spread wide, left arm cocked at his side and right arm set in front of him at a right angle, fist up in the air. "All right, Mousse," he said. "Let's get this over with."

Mousse, who was standing with his arms folded while they spoke, nodded and assumed his own ready stance, drawing his wounded leg up until the foot rested against the side of his left knee, one hand raised high in the air palm up and the other held straight out with the palm facing his opponent.

The two stood still for an indeterminable amount of time, barely six feet from each other. The only sounds were the muffled coughs from someone in the hushed crowd and the steady drip of Mousse's blood on the pavement. An occasional cloud passed overhead, casting them in brief shade before moving on in its mindless journey.

Suddenly Ranma charged, finally grown impatient with the long standoff, and struck out with his fists. Mousse met his attack easily, shifting his stance to accommodate its momentum, moving backward while blocking aside fists with open palms. The dance had begun.

Shampoo watched nervously while the two combatants moved with efficient laziness of those long practiced in their art. Ranma seemed to be in control of the battle, striking with hands and feet in the hard, linear style of Japanese martial arts, while Mousse was on the defensive, favoring his right leg but somehow managing to dodge around Ranma's attacks with the flowing grace of Chinese wushu. But something was wrong. Ranma was holding back, increasing the speed and power of his attacks incrementally instead of going all out like Cologne had advised. And Mousse was adjusting a little too easily despite his wound, sometimes going on the offensive, moving so quickly that Ranma barely managed to block his blows, and then pulling back into defensive almost playfully. Mousse was toying with him.

She glanced at her great-grandmother. A tiny bead of sweat rolled slowly down the side of her scowling face. That shook her more than anything. If Cologne was nervous, or even afraid, then she had more than enough reason to be terrified. She shivered in spite of the late spring heat. Mousse had changed so much. He was stronger, so much stronger than she dreamed he could be, she could feel power coming off him like heat, but he was also so…evil. This was not the blind, bumbling, sweet Mousse she remembered, the one who liked to sketch her picture when he thought she wasn't looking, or play music on his erhu when he wasn't chasing after her proclaiming his undying love. This Mousse was hard, unforgiving, and cold, with that horrible, false grin perpetually on his face, challenging Ranma so he could take her as his prize. He had even forgotten her name…

Shampoo's eyes widened. _…forgotten my name…_

She turned shocked eyes to Cologne, who was still watching the fight intently. Her mind turned back to the time when she first gave the Kiss of Death to Akane and tried to wipe out her memory.

She wouldn't…

There was something about Cologne's explanation about Mousse that didn't quite feel right, though she didn't press it. If she couldn't trust her own flesh and blood, who could she trust? But she had lied about his death and Cologne could be absolutely ruthless when it came to the safety of her and her own. With numb realization, Shampoo knew that Cologne _could_ have done it. And now watching Mousse, who so easily swatted aside one of Ranma's lightning fast punches, she realized that Cologne most likely did.

Ranma stepped up his attacks once again as Mousse easily moved aside his punch, almost making him fall over from overextension. He growled under his breath as Mousse grinned that insufferable grin at him. Handicap or no handicap, he was good. But Ranma knew that he was the better fighter. He was the best.

_Okay then, you wanna play it that way, fine. No holding back._

He charged forward again, moving and striking as fast as he could. His fists and feet blurring as moved from one technique to another. And Mousse dodged them all with same arrogant ease he dodged Ranma's earlier attacks.

No way…

Suddenly Mousse's hand lashed out, catching hold of Ranma's wrist. He felt himself jerked forward and then suddenly back as Mousse drove the heel of his palm into his chest, knocking the air out of him. Ranma managed to remain standing despite the palm strike, his feet kicking up twin clouds of dust as he slid back. When he finally stopped he was at least twenty feet from where he once was. He gasped for breath.

_This could be bad._

Mousse studied Ranma's technique with interest. Anything Goes Martial Arts was really anything goes. Ranma's base style seemed to be kempo with some karate and jujitsu influence, but he could name at least a dozen different styles liberally mixed in. Not only that, but Ranma was talented, fast, and flexible in both mind and body, switching technique and style on a dime when called for. If Ranma developed his chi a little more, Mousse would swear he was sparring with one of his brothers.

The wound in his leg was throbbing mercilessly. He wouldn't put it past the old witch to have poisoned the dart before hand. And the Red was fading. He would have to end it soon. He never planned to actually use the power the Burning Red gave him while fighting Ranma, but he wanted to Cologne to see just how powerful he could be.

_I think I got the point across. Time to claim my prize._

He knocked Ranma back softly. Even so, he slid back about two dozen feet before coming to a stop, gasping for breath. At least he managed to stay on his feet.

Mousse dropped his stance and stood normally while favoring his wounded leg.

"Good, Ranma, very good," he said. "But it's not good enough. Tell you what. You leave now and spare yourself some pain. I know you don't care about the Amazon so there's no point for you to continue. Come on, what do you say?"

"You know I can't do that," Ranma gasped. "I'm doing this for the honor of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts. I can't just give up."

Mousse sighed in disappointment. "I see. Well, have it your way."

He rushed forward moving as quickly as he could. He caught a surprised look on Ranma's face before it twisted with pain as he was punched in the gut. As Ranma doubled over, Mousse brought his knee up into his chest, sending him flying across the street.

Mousse sighed again. _I don't want to hurt the guy, but I guess there's no choice._

The crowd gasped as Mousse suddenly appeared in front of Ranma and sent him flying through the air in just two strikes. Cologne narrowed her eyes. Mousse was far too strong. It was simply impossible for a human to have chi that powerful. Something was definitely wrong.

Ranma was standing now, using a wall as support, and assumed his ready stance. He didn't have time to react before Mousse appeared before him again, leaping into the air and kicking him in the chest with enough force to send Ranma crashing through the concrete wall. Resilient as her future son-in-law was, he couldn't take much more punishment. He was going to need help.

Cologne sighed, hating what she had to do and what it might mean if Shampoo ever found out. The girl had a soft spot for the old Mousse, even if he was a blind idiot. She may never forgive her if she ever found out.

Ranma leapt out of the hole in the wall, attacking Mousse with all the speed and strength he could muster, but Mousse simply spun on his heel and kicked him out of the way.

"Ranma, listen carefully!" she shouted out. "He is Jusenkyo cursed! Get him near cold water."

But all it earned her was a shocked look from Shampoo and an annoyed one from Mousse. The glance cost him though, as Ranma recovered with uncanny speed, kicking Mousse in the midsection. Mousse didn't seem to feel it as he swatted Ranma away again and turned his attention to the fight.

Cologne cursed under her breath. Ranma hadn't heard. It was time to play a direct part in the fight. Hopping over to a nearby water hydrant she spotted earlier. She waited as the two fighters neared. Mousse was playing with him again, throwing Ranma around like a rag doll. The two came into alignment with the spout.

Let's see how you like fighting as a duck, monster.

She struck the hydrant with her staff and cold water gushed out, spraying the combatants with cold water.

Mousse cast an annoyed glance at Cologne as she revealed his former secret. His opponent didn't seem to notice however, as he was trying desperately to hit him. The glance gave Ranma the opportunity to launch a side kick which would have floored someone else, but only annoyed Mousse. He knocked Ranma away contemptuously.

_Time to end this. Don't want to give him too many bruises._

However, as he came forward, a blast of cold wetness hit them both. He wiped the water from his glasses in irritation. He made a mental note to torture Cologne for a long time when he finally beat her. He looked around for his opponent, who was at the moment nowhere to be found. He finally caught a glimpse of wet red cloth and grinned. It's over now.

However as he descended on the figure, it suddenly let out a very female shriek of fear. Mousse skid to a halt. Instead of Ranma, there was a wet, frightened looking girl with red hair tied up in a pigtail.

"Please don't hurt me," she pleaded, raising her arms in protection.

Mousse's initial confusion passed quickly as he swept the area for Ranma, who had mysteriously disappeared.

That's strange. I could have sworn…wait. The girl…

A flaring of chi behind him was the only warning he got before the girl he had nearly smashed into the pavement suddenly leapt up.

"Kacchu Tenshin Amaguriken!"

Mousse fell back under the force of hundreds of blows striking out all under the span of a few seconds.

Ranma, now in his female form, stood panting over the still, wet body of her opponent.

She hated using dirty tricks like that, but it was the only way to win. She winced as she began walking away from the jet of water still shooting from the broken hydrant. That guy hit _hard_.

"Ranma!" she heard three cries at once, as Akane, Ukyo, and Shampoo rushed forward to see him.

She held up her hands, grimacing. "Please not now. I just wanna go home."

The three stopped in front of her, close enough to see if she was seriously hurt but far enough away to give him her own space.

"Ranma are you all right?" asked Akane concernedly.

"Yeah, nothing I couldn't handle," she replied confidently.

"You really had us worried there, Ranchan," Ukyo said. "I mean, that guy was so…"

The words died in her mouth as she suddenly gaped. Ranma froze. She felt it too. The same flaring of ki, like a bonfire. Except this time it was closer. Much, much closer.

A hissing sound filled the air, as though large quantities of water were being poured onto a hot metal surface. Ranma turned around to see huge clouds of steam billowing upward from where Mousse lay. But Mousse wasn't lying down. He was standing, bent forward in a bestial posture while dark red tongues of flaming chi undulated languidly, like fire in slow motion. As the water hit his body, it was instantly turned in to steam. A low, guttural sound issued from deep inside him.

_It was him_, Ranma thought dazedly. _It was him._

"_Amazon._" Ranma heard Mousse growl, before he howled in rage and rushed forward.

Mousse lay in the cold water, dazed from the punishment that girl had dealt him.

Kacchu Tenshin Amaguriken?

His mind was so hazy he could barely remember his Japanese, but that phrase sounded strangely familiar. He closed his eyes and shook his head the best he could to clear his muddled thoughts, but nothing would come.

Chestnuts…

His eyes snapped open as wide as they could go as a memory came to the surface with the blinding flash of a lightning bolt.

No, not in Japanese…in Chinese…

He had seen that technique before, long ago in another life. A life he hated. Only the words shouted were in Chinese, not Japanese.

One thought ran through his mind over and over. _Amazon._

The Red consumed him.

Ranma desperately dodged another wild downward punch from Mousse. The fist shattered the asphalt and drove itself in up to the middle of his forearm. She knew if that punch had connected she probably wouldn't have survived it.

She didn't know what happened, but it was obvious Mousse was no longer himself. Even though he now moved with the graceless fury of a madman, Ranma wagered his blows were far stronger than they were before. She barely stepped out of the way as Mousse again threw a punch at her. If it weren't for that wound on his leg, she knew Mousse would have caught her and torn her apart piece by piece already.

Ranma hissed in pain as she again dodged Mousse, but one of the slow tongues of fiery chi brushed against her arm. She could smell burning cloth.

Fire…that's it!

Mousse had paused for the moment, sucking in deep, ragged breaths as he watched Ranma with insane hatred. Ranma struck her most confident pose.

"Come on, Mousse! What's wrong, you running out of breath?" she jibed. "Your mom runs faster than that!"

Ranma wondered if she had gone a bit too far when he saw Mousse's reaction. He stood completely still, he even seemed to stop breathing. Then he started to shake, his eyes widening dangerously. He let out an inarticulate scream of rage before charging.

Ranma moved as fast as she could, keeping a narrow lead ahead of the demon that was once Mousse. But instead of dodging, she moved with purpose, drawing Mousse in closer and closer to the center of a spiral pattern. Mousse's aura was pulling back to form a comet's tail behind him as it was drawn into the spiral, creating curved lines of hot, glowing red.

_This is going to be huge._

Ranma pushed herself to move faster as Mousse grasped at her in fury.

_Almost there._

She could see the center of the pattern out of the corner of her eye. She leaped back again, dodging another grab by Mousse while staying in the pattern. His face was twisted into a rictus snarl.

Come on…

Ranma stopped at the center of the spiral. She could feel the power swirling around her, ready to be released with a simple gesture on her part. Mousse, seeing his prey had stopped, leapt, intent on ripping her apart with his bare hands.

Now!

"Hiryu Shoten Ha!" she cried, driving her fist into the air.

Mousse was upon her, his face barely inches from hers, his expression impossibly furious, when he disappeared, ripped away screaming into the twisting vortex of the Hiryu Shoten Ha.

Author's Note: Yes, I know what Mousse said to Kuno was a ripoff from Conair, but I thought it was fitting at the moment. And I don't have anything against kendo or its practitioners, especially since I happen to be one myself. I don't have anything against Kuno either. At first I thought I should change it so I wouldn't look like a Kuno-basher, but I thought this would be most likely to happen, so I left it in. Apologies to any Kuno fans.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	9. Part VIII

Author's Note: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed

Mousse raged inside the Hiryu Shoten Ha. He screamed in inarticulate fury as he was borne up by the violent winds of the cyclone and sent tumbling end over end in a wild, dizzying revolution around its center. Debris picked up by the winds, rocks and jagged pieces of concrete that shattered during the fight, struck him, leaving a number of cuts on his body as they whizzed passed. He shut his eyes against the dust flying into them.

_That Amazon bitch!_

_Hey…_

_I will break her in half for this!_

_Calm down…_

_She will suffer for weeks when I find her!_

_Calm…_

_She and her entire family will-_

_FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER, CALM YOURSELF!_

Mousse calmed, and a deep, emotionless cold fell over him. The last of the Red faded from his sight and he finally became aware of his surroundings. Alternating currents of searing hot and numbing cold air swirled around him. Acting on instinct rather than coherent thought, he relaxed completely, letting his body go limp. He felt himself being carried up higher and higher until he stopped, the sound of rushing wind becoming slightly fainter the farther up he went.

Mousse opened his eyes. He was floating serenely on a cushion of air in the eye of the cyclone. His vision of the ground was obscured so it was difficult to tell exactly how high up he was, but he could easily see what he thought were the rooftops of surrounding buildings and the Tokyo skyline from his vantage point. His glasses were knocked from his face by the winds. He carefully adjusted his body into a sitting position, legs crossed under him, and folded his arms across his chest. Judging from the strength of the winds that carried him here, the tornado wasn't likely to dissipate anytime soon.

_That gives me plenty of time to reflect over my mistake and kick my own ass over it_, he thought ruefully.

The Red was gone now, used up in his thrashings inside the tornado, which he realized later was actually feeding it, making it stronger. A cold, dark abyss filled him where the Red used to be. His vision blurred as a wave of hollow weariness washed over him. It was distant now, but soon, he knew, it would consume him as completely as the Red had moments before. But that was alright. Because now that he was the one in control, now he can think; the fight can still be salvaged. First, to find out what went wrong.

He bowed his head in thought. Everything was going well in the beginning. He never planned on seriously hurting Ranma, he just wanted to show Cologne a flagrant, almost vulgar display of raw power, to show that she had no chance of defeating him, and he managing to pull it off fairly well before everything went to hell.

_Before that Amazon stepped in_, he thought, and some of the insane rage he felt earlier sparked to life. But it was a distant feeling, and he ignored it easily. There was no time to get angry.

With his mind cleared, he closed his eyes and replayed the fight in his head, carefully scrutinizing every detail. He was mildly surprised at how much he remembered even under the influence of the Red. At first it seemed Ranma hadn't stood a chance against him. He was good, very good, but there was simply no way he could have matched the speed and strength the drug offered Mousse. The old crone saw this, and then warned Ranma of his curse. He couldn't keep the smirk from his face. _Former curse_, he thought.Looking back, Mousse realized Ranma must have heard this, because he lured him near the fire hydrant, where that Amazon stepped in and-

_Wait._

Mousse's head snapped up. There was something amiss. Something about that Amazon. She had the right hair color and the martial skill, but something felt…wrong. For one thing, she spoke Japanese like a native. Most Amazons could barely manage a pidgin version of the language, but this one had even called out the Roasting Chestnuts attack in the Japanese fashion. He rubbed his chin where she had hit him. She seemed so familiar. He had never seen anyone that looks like her in the village, but he could swear he saw her before. He closed his eyes as he visualized her face. She was a very pretty girl, for an Amazon, with cute features on a heart-shaped face framed by flaming red hair tied back in a pigtail… She looked like a younger version of Nodoka.

Something in Mousse's mind stirred uneasily. The more he thought about it, the closer he came to the only conclusion that made even the least amount of sense. The hair, the resemblance to Nodoka, the mastery of a foreign language, the fact that she knew how to trigger a Jusenkyo curse (which reminded him of what happened after, when that girl had sent him over the edge by insulting him through his mother; _And it wasn't even a good insult, a seven year old could have done better_, he thought ruefully), and the final piece of evidence he now realized, her clothing was exactly the same as Ranma's when he hit the water. While it may be that Ranma has a twin sister dressed exactly like him running around helping him in his fights, Mousse found that unlikely. The most logical conclusion he could come to was that Ranma had the bad luck to have an accident at Jusenkyo involving a cursed spring, and then through some wild set of circumstances learned two of many secret Amazonian fighting techniques.

Mousse sighed. _Yeah, real logical. But it will have to do for now._

He looked around. The winds had abated slightly, but he could tell it would be quite a while before they stopped, at least an hour or so. _Now how the hell am I supposed to get down?_

Ranma scrambled away from the chi-charged tornado of the Hiryu Shoten Ha, stopping only when a wall blocked her escape. She leaned back against the wall and heaved a sigh of relief. She had fought against another powerful martial arts master possessing overwhelming power and once again emerged victorious if not unscathed. She shuddered slightly as she remembered the sheer hatred on his face that went beyond anything she had ever seen before. Nobody, not Ryoga, Panyhose, Herb, Saffron, no one had ever looked like that when they fought him. This one genuinely hated her to the point of insanity. It was more frightening than anything she had ever seen. Well, maybe except for cats. But it was still a close call.

"You've done well son-in-law. I almost thought he was too much for you."

Ranma glanced up with an expression that was part exasperation and part anger. "Jusenkyo cursed, huh? So what was the curse, old bag? No, wait let me guess.

Spring of Drowned Fire Demon with Pathological Hatred of Amazons, right?"

A small crowd gathered around him, his concerned fiancées and some spectators who weren't staring in awe up at the tornado.

"Yes, great-grandmother," Shampoo said as she trotted up. Ranma noted with some confusion that her tone almost seemed suspicious. "What kind of curse does Mu Tzu have?"

Ranma thought she saw Cologne wince slightly. She would have shrugged if she weren't so sore. _It don't matter_, she thought as she stood, using the wall as a support. _I just wanna get outta here._

"Anyone got hot water?" she asked, getting to his feet. His knees almost gave out, but he righted himself quickly.

A kettle was handed to him. "Here you go, Ranchan."

She poured the steaming contents of the kettle over herself and she became a he. "Thanks Ucchan, you're a lifesaver," he said. He curled his hands into fists as he changed, his body becoming larger and heavier muscled, fitting more snugly into the wet clothes he was wearing. "Much better."

"Are you sure you're alright, Ranma?" came the concerned voice of Akane. She was standing in front of him, hands clasped worriedly in front of her.

"Hey, never been better," he replied with his usual arrogance. He jerked a thumb up to where his opponent was still flying around and laughed. "I coulda gone at least three more rounds with ol' Sparky up there."

His laughter died in his throat as his eyes followed where his thumb was pointing.

"No way," he breathed.

The others followed his gaze up and gasped. Mousse was still in the Hiryu Shoten Ha, but not as they expected. He was floating lazily at the very top, legs crossed Indian style beneath him and arms folded across his chest, looking for all the world like he was actually enjoying the view. His head turned slowly down toward Ranma, and he felt his skin crawl. He couldn't see Mousse's face from this distance, but he was sure that evil grin was plastered all over it. Ranma's face became grim.

"That does it. He's going down." He spread his feet apart slightly and set his fists at his side.

"Ranma-"

"Quiet," he said, not caring who said it. He was focused on the floating figure up in the sky.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. It was easy to bring his confidence to the surface. It was a part of him, and pulled him through the hairiest situations for as long as he could remember, even when he seemed hopelessly outmatched by guys like that Mousse freak. It was the kind of confidence that gamblers feel just before a roll, that no matter what the odds, no matter how much the house was favored, he would win simply because of who he was, Saotome Ranma, the one and only.

His eyes opened. It was ready.

He brought his hands together at the heel, palms open and fingers curled.

"_Moko Takabisha!" _

Mousse watched curiously as he saw the blurred figure of Ranma stand and look up at him. By his movements, Mousse judged that he was in about a good a shape as he himself was. He raised an eyebrow as Ranma put his hands out in front of him. What happened next completely caught him off guard.

He felt more than saw a sudden surging of chi coming from Ranma. Golden ghost-light gathered at his hands, condensed, and launched itself up trailing a tail like a comet. It wasn't moving very fast, it was barely faster than the average professional baseball pitcher's throw, and he was confident he could dodge it if he was on the ground, but trapped as he was in the cyclone he could only watch as it flew toward him. A sudden terrifying sensation passed through his mind that he had stumbled from a subway platform in front of a train barreling down on him, its single headlight glaring at him like a huge malign eye of some subterranean monster. But the feeling was as distant as his anger and pain. As the compressed ball of chi-charged air punched through the winds of the Hiryu Shoten Ha, disturbing the currents and causing him to dip suddenly, he calmly crossed his arms in front of his face and set his body to receive the blow.

Ranma watched as the Moko Takabisha connected with Mousse, exploding on contact and blowing him straight out of the twister and into a nearby house. Ranma winced as Mousse impacted the side of the brick construct and fell bonelessly, catching his head on a porch railing that set his body into a spin. There was a muffled thud as he hit the ground inside the walled-in area of the backyard, for which Ranma was grateful. He didn't want to see what kind of shape Mousse was in after his brief trip on Air Takabisha.

He tried to stand normally, but lost his footing as his vision lurched nauseously. When the world righted itself, he found himself on his back staring up at Akane's concerned face. He felt his body temperature jump up a few degrees as he realized again in those rare, dazzling moments how beautiful she actually was.

"Are you alright, Ranma?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm alright." He shook his head at her offered hand and lifted himself to his feet. He gave her his most charming grin. "See?"

She blushed deeply and lowered her eyes. "Can we go home now?"

"Yeah. Let's go home."

The first thought to pass through Mousse's head as he laying on the ground, staring unblinking at the sky, with a kid standing over him who couldn't have been out of preschool curiously probing a stick at his motionless body, was that maybe, just maybe, he had underestimated Ranma. A little. He groaned as he stood and the probing stopped. The kid was now staring up at him with wide eyes, the stick dropped to the ground forgotten.

He gave the kid a hard look. "Beat it."

The kid ran, screaming.

_Probably going to tell someone. Better make this quick_, he thought. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in the backyard of a plain, tall building set with porches and door windows at regular intervals. Another apartment. He could still sense Ranma and the others from behind the wall, dimly, like light seen from behind paper. He could hear the winds of the twister dying away in the distance. The blast knocked him farther away than he had first thought.

It was then that he noticed his right shoulder was dislocated. He gripped his right hand with his left and jerked hard. He grimaced as he was greeted by a wet popping sound as his shoulder found its socket. He rolled it around experimentally while examining what condition he himself was in.

He sighed. Beyond a few scratches and a small bump forming where he hit his head on the railing he was fine, but his clothing was a different matter. Both of his shoes were gone, he assumed taken by the winds of the twister, his pants had a long rip along the seam on its right side, and his shirt was no more than a rag hanging from his neck. He tore what was left of the shirt off and fished around in his pockets for a spare. He groaned when he pulled out the only piece of clothing he had with him, a gray duster designed by some Italian company (Versace, Armani, Testoni, whatever), the closest thing he had to formal wear. As he pulled the coat around his shoulders cinched the belt around his waist he noted distantly that it fit a little more loosely on his frame than it should have. But he shrugged that minor concern off as he sensed Ranma and the others fading into the distance.

He started running for the wall, preparing to leap over it, when his vision turned watery and his head tried to float away from his body. He stumbled, and instead of clearing the wall he ran into it. His outstretched hands caught it before his face did, and he leaned against it, breathing harshly while sweat poured from his face. The drug was really catching up to him. By now the damage it did to his mind and body was probably irreversible.

He laughed bitterly between ragged breaths. _Hey, even the Mona Lisa is falling apart._

He waited for the few eternal moments it took for his vision to clear and his head to attach itself firmly to his body before attempting to move again. He pushed himself back from the wall to stand on legs that felt more like reeds. The fact that the world kept swaying from side to side like on the deck of a small ship in an unsettled sea didn't help. He was far weaker than when he first started and he felt a little light in the head, light all over in fact. He mused that perhaps the cold emptiness growing inside him was literally eating him alive, and thought how frightening and at the same time how funny it would be if he were to look down one day and find the entire midsection of his body simply gone and then die, like a cartoon character who runs off a cliff and doesn't realize he's running on thin air until he looks down, at which point gravity takes over and he promptly falls with a whistling sound into the gorge, river, or pavement.

He laughed again as he leaped over the wall, clearing it this time and set on Ranma's trail. This was no time for such thoughts. There was a killing to do.

"Don't be stubborn, son-in-law. It's for your own good."

"Yeah, right. I don't know what happened between you and that freak back there but it's your problem, not mine. And stop calling me son-in-law."

Cologne sighed in frustration. The boy was being difficult. "You act like you have a choice. He'll be back for you."

Ranma shrugged. "Then I'll beat him again, no sweat."

Cologne bit her lip to keep from screaming at the boy. People nearby, remnants of the spectators, maybe a dozen in all, and the girls, took a nervous step back as she visibly struggled to keep from lashing out at the oblivious Ranma. She was having trouble convincing the boy to come with her to hide and train for Mousse's eminent return, and she had the feeling that Mousse wasn't going to be the loser in that fight. And then there was the matter of Shampoo, who was eyeing her in a cold way she didn't much care for. She felt the beginnings of a headache coming along.

_My cane for a couple of aspirin_, she thought.

"You won't beat him again, boy. Any idiot can see he outclasses you in almost every way. If you don't train for his return he will kill you, and most likely your loved ones if he so feels like it."

He whirled abruptly. "Then what's the point of you taking me somewhere to train when my family and friends are still here?"

"I'm not asking just-" She stopped and cocked her head to the side, as if listening for something. For a moment she could have sworn she sensed something.

"I'm not asking just you to come along with me to train," she continued in her harsh crow's voice. "I'm inviting everyone, whomever you wish, to come with me."

Ranma blinked, taken aback. "You're really serious, aren't you?"

Cologne sighed in relief. He has seen the light. "Yes. Now will you do it?"

He bowed his head in thought for a moment. "Okay, I'll do it. But first you explain why he's after you."

"Yeah, explain it to us," said Akane, and "We want to know," from Ukyo. Even the spectators were gathering closer to hear the old woman's story.

"Yes, great-grandmother," said Shampoo. Her voice was icy. "Tell us."

"I'm all ears," said Nabiki, whom Cologne didn't notice was there until she spoke. She berated herself mentally, of course she was going to be there, she plays bookie with all the Ranma fights. But something about the way Nabiki was looking at her, a little too intent, a little too much interest in her normally analytical gaze, made Cologne recall the last time she questioned her about Mousse, how she seemed a slight bit too casual, that perhaps she was hiding something.

_Surely she can't be involved with the monster!_ The thought was alarming in itself, that one of the Tendo girls may or may not have some connection, any connection, with Mousse. She didn't know what kind of ramifications this may have in the future if her suspicions proved to be true, but she did know they couldn't be good. She felt a pang of regret as she remembered what she did to him all those years ago, and an even greater pang as she thought how much easier life would be if she had simply finished him off before he could turn into such a threat.

She cleared her throat. "It was about twelve years-"

She didn't even finish her first sentence as the wall beside Ranma exploded out in a shower of rubble and a gray-clad arm reached out, grabbing him by the shirt and jerking him violently into the wall.

Mousse waited patiently as he heard the voices coming nearer. _Almost there._

He grinned suddenly, not believing his luck as they stopped right on the other side of the wall he was standing behind. He waited while they talked, making absolutely sure it was Ranma who was on the other side. He pulled his fist back, ready to punch through the wall, when another wave of dizziness washed over him. He was prepared this time, however, and fought it fiercely until he felt he was back in control. When he felt he was in his right mind, he pulled his fist back again, then stopped in disbelief. His hand was trembling. He stared at it almost uncomprehendingly. It was trembling noticeably, like the hands of an old man he saw once and wished fervently that he would never be like. He snarled viciously at it, as though it were an actual living thing, and concentrated, forcing it, willing it to stop trembling, until he felt like he was burning from fever. Little by little the hand stopped trembling, until it was barely there, and finally gone.

He clenched and unclenched it experimentally. As if it was never there. He closed it into a fist and punched through the wall, grabbing a handful of cloth and pulling who he hoped was Ranma to the hole.

Ranma didn't know what to make of it when the fist punched through the wall and grabbed him by the shirt, dragging his face into the hole, until he found himself face-to-face with the ghastly sight of Mousse's ghost.

He blenched immediately upon seeing it, its skin a sickly chalk color and stretched tightly over its skull, its hair faded from the deep black he remembered into a dirty gray, and its eyes almost glowing with inhuman intensity. He only had a moment to take all this in before he found himself hammered back by the ghost's fist back into the street.

Cologne gasped along with everyone else as Ranma was dragged into the wall and then flew back with enough force to send him into the street.

_It can't be._

Unlike the others however, she found her wits quickly and acted on them. She tapped Shampoo with her cane, who looked down at her with a strange expression that looked like a cross between puzzlement and shock.

"Come with me, girl, there is little time."

Shampoo nodded, no trace of doubt in her eyes this time, and followed.

The wall exploded again as Mousse made his way through. He swept a level gaze across everyone who was there, some of the crowd from the beginning of the fight, the two girls hanging out with Ranma, and to his distant surprise, Nabiki. All of them stared with open-mouthed shock at him and some turned white in the face. But none of that concerned him. Cologne and the girl were gone. His face darkened when he saw this and he turned his attention to Ranma, who was recovering from his blow.

He strode purposefully to Ranma, who jumped up at him suddenly and cried, "Kacchu Tenshin Amaguriken!" His entire body sped up like a movie recording being fast-forwarded, his fists blurring with the speed.

Mousse calmly reached out with both hands and grabbed the blurs. Ranma's whole body jarred to a sudden stop as Mousse held his wrists in an iron grip, squeezing brutally. Mousse pulled Ranma forward and brought his knee up into his abdomen, turning his cry of pain into a whoosh of violently exhaled air. He bent over double, gasping, as the air left his body. Raising his interlaced hands in the air, Mousse brought them down hard on the nape of Ranma's neck. Ranma slammed into the ground, unmoving.

For a silent, breathless moment, there was no sound except for Mousse's harsh breathing as he stood over the body of his unconscious foe. Then he bent down, gripped Ranma's pigtail, and started dragging him across the street. Mousse originally didn't plan to kill Ranma. He was just some poor sap that got mixed up in something he had no part of. But he proved to be a dangerous sap, one that couldn't be left alive to screw up any future plans Mousse may have. So he had to die. But before he died, Mousse planned to thoroughly have his way with him, in part as an example to everyone else and in part because he was the only one ever outside his family to come that close to beating him. He was even on the Red at the time! The shame and embarrassment gnawed at him.

There was a groan from Ranma as he was dragged over a large rock. Mousse turned and kicked him viciously in the head. Ranma fell silent, unconscious again, and Mousse continued on his way until he reached his destination: a yellow fire hydrant. But before he began, he had to know something.

He kicked the hydrant over with the heel of his bare foot and a fountain of cold water rushed out, reaching high above them all. Mousse, still holding Ranma by his pigtail, shoved his face over the geyser and held him there. Ranma regained consciousness as the icy water hit him and began flailing wildly. Mousse flung him back after a few moments. As he suspected, instead of Ranma on his hands and knees retching up water, it was the red-haired girl he originally thought was the Amazon.

Mousse didn't waste any time. He ran forward and kicked the girl hard enough to send her flying into a nearby wall and followed up immediately, pummeling her abdomen and face with his fists. When she began to slide down the wall as consciousness again gave way, he lifted her up by the front of her shirt and continued without losing a beat. After what seemed an eternity it was over. Ranma slumped to the ground as Mousse finally let go. There was complete silence except for the sound of Mousse's harsh breathing. He stared down at his bloodied fists. The fight was over; Ranma was beaten. Now all that was left was to break her.

Mousse bent down and lifted Ranma up under the arms, standing her up so she was leaning against the wall for support. He patted her face with surprising gentleness, like trying to wake someone from a swoon.

"Hey, come on. Stay with me here, sweetness," he crooned softly. She groaned in response, and when he was sure she came around enough he slammed his fist into her gut. Her breath came out in a violent exhalation. He thought he heard screaming for him to stop, she was beaten, he won, the fight's over, somebody make him stop. He drove his fist into Ranma again. He thought he could hear sobbing this time. He didn't stop, but kept hammering his fist into the girl. Cracks spiderwebbed out from the wall behind her from the force of his blows. Warm droplets of blood she coughed up with every strike covered his face.

It wouldn't be long now. Mousse could feel Ranma weakening. The very core of her being was coming loose from its moorings. He was coming close to killing her and he didn't want that, not yet, but one more punch shouldn't put him down for good. Ranma was certainly resilient. He could take, and will go through, a world of punishment. Mousse drew back his fist… and froze in shock, dropping her to the ground.

For a moment, the barest fraction of a second, he felt something from her, something that slid by his awareness, like a dark, ominous shape seen just under the cloudy surface of the ocean. He stepped back, expecting her to suddenly rise up with some incredible new power and attack. Nothing happened.

His confusion lasted only a second when suddenly the world jarred violently to the left and a resounding _clang!_ filled his ears. He staggered slightly but kept his feet. He was aware of someone behind him. He turned slowly around to face the person who dared to interfere. He couldn't quite believe what he saw. Ucchan, the giant spatula she normally had strapped to her back in her hands and still touching side of his head where she had hit him with it, stood there, a look of fear and defiance on her face. He didn't say anything for a breathless moment, but simply stared at her expressionlessly. A hush fell over the crowd and a palpable feeling of horrified expectation filled the air. Ukyo began to fidget under his intense stare when he finally spoke.

"Did you just hit me with a spatula?"

The question was spoken so softly that Ukyo wasn't sure she heard right. And then there was a gun pointed at her face, so close she could actually see the spiraling pattern inside the barrel, and the question was repeated.

"Did you just hit me with a spatula?"

Ukyo swallowed. She had faced dozens of martial artists before, many armed with various kinds of deadly weapons, but there was something about having a gun pointed directly in her face that made her feel cold in the stomach.

"Um, yes?" she answered meekly.

Mousse's eyes went out of focus as they glazed over slightly. His lips moved soundlessly, and she thought he was mouthing "spatula, she hit me with a spatula" over and over again, and then he stopped, his eyes closed. She almost thought he passed out on his feet, when suddenly: "_WHY!?"_

She stepped back as he screamed it in her face.

"Why would you hit _anyone_ with a fucking _spatula_!? It makes no fucking _sense_!"

He stopped suddenly and put both hands to his head, as if trying to comprehend the fact that he was smacked with a giant spatula was causing him pain. Suddenly his hands dropped to his sides, he looked up and in a conversational tone of voice said: "You are all insane."

"_Moko Takabisha!"_

Mousse whirled in surprise and was caught full on by the blast of compressed air. He staggered back and the crowd ducked instinctively as the gun he held clattered to the ground without discharging. Ranma was standing on her feet now, barely an arm's length away, her hands still faintly glowing from the after effects of the chi blast, eyes blazing with fierce resolve.

"_Moko Takabisha!"_

"_Moko Takabisha!"_

"_Moko Takabisha!"_

"_Moko Takabisha!"_

Mousse was hit again and again by the technique, driving him slowly back, ripping through the thin cloth of his duster. He could swear that Ranma's technique was becoming stronger.

"_Moko Takabisha!"_

He decided that it actually was becoming stronger when the last one managed to lift him off his feet and send him flying into a wall on the opposite side of the street. He looked up blearily from where he was laying and saw Ranma was still standing, obviously hurting from the wounds he gave her, but literally glowing with power.

"It's over for you freak!" she shouted, her chi flaring like a fire whipped by a strong wind. _"Moko Takabisha Amaguri-"_

Mousse knew if he didn't do something it was he who was going to die. So reached down, in the place only masters of hidden weapons know how to reach, pulled something out and threw it. It was a knife, which was good, but it was too big and improperly balanced, a hunting knife, and the throw was underhand and clumsy from where he was laying. It flew through the air tumbling end over end to connect hilt-first between Ranma's eyes. Her aura guttered and she staggered, her eyes rolling back in her head, before she crumpled, again unconscious.

Mousse stood unsteadily on his feet and walked toward the prone body of Ranma, picking up the gun on the way. He turned suddenly and pointed it at the crowd, who took a hurried step back as he swept the muzzle at them. As weak as he was now he wasn't taking any chances.

He picked up Ranma who was regaining consciousness at an incredible rate Mousse was finding out, by the shirt and shoved her roughly against the wall. He leveled the gun at her forehead.

"Now you die," he hissed.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	10. Part IX

Author's Note: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed

Author's Note: I'm sorry about that cliffhanger from last chapter. I didn't mean to do it but I passed out on the keyboard, so I decided to leave it at that. And though it's a little late, I would also like to take this moment to express my sorrow over the victims of the World Trade Center tragedy. May they rest in peace.

Cologne watched from the roof as the fight degenerated from a formal duel to a bitter struggle for survival. At first it seemed Ranma might actually win, gods bless the boy, but Mousse proved to be too much for him. Now Mousse was holding a gun to her son-in-law's head, ready to end it all with one squeeze of the trigger. She looked down at Shampoo.

"Are you ready?"

The cat mewed an affirmative.

"Then go."

The hammer pulled back on the gun with an ominous click, and for the first time Mousse saw real fear in Ranma's eyes. He grinned coldly and wondered how much fear it would take her to die from a heart attack.

Then something small and lavender dropped from above and onto Ranma's head. It took Ranma, still bleary with pain, a moment to register what happened. But when he did, the change was immediate. If Mousse thought he saw fear in Ranma's eyes before, what he saw now was absolute terror. Ranma screamed and flailed her limbs with surprising strength, the gun aimed at her head forgotten. Mousse stepped back in surprise as her body contorted in ways that made him ache by simply watching.

Mousse, after watching this for close to a minute, decided he had had enough and yanked the thing off her head. He stared flatly at what he held in his hand. It was a small, pretty cat with an exotically colored coat of pale violet. It seemed to be looking at him with an almost human expression of fright.

He looked back at Ranma, who was pressed tightly to the wall trying to keep as much distance from the cat and herself as possible, her eyes rolling with fear.

_You've got to be kidding me_, Mousse thought disgustedly. He was about to toss the cat aside when he paused thoughtfully and his lips peeled back in an evil grin. Unfortunately for Ranma, it was at this time that Mousse's vicious streak decided to assert itself.

"You don't like cats, do you Ranma?" he purred, dangling the cat in front of her face. Ranma didn't answer but kept her eyes locked on the cat. "What's wrong? Don't you want to play with the kitty?"

Mousse shoved the cat in Ranma's face.

"Play with the kitty Ranma!" He screamed maniacally. "Come on Ranma, play with the kitty!"

Ranma's scream seemed endless. Even after it trailed off into nothingness as her voice gave out, her face was still petrified in the same expression.

Suddenly, whatever dark, powerful presence it was that Mousse felt earlier in Ranma, surged to the surface. Mousse reeled back, almost overwhelmed by the sheer force by which it arose.

He stopped a dozen feet away and waited. His rational side railed at him to end it, use the gun, to kill her before whatever it was he felt in her comes to bear. But it was just an annoying buzz in his ear compared to the dark, almost suicidal part of him that watched with equal parts curiosity and anticipation. He was distantly aware that this sudden macabre need to see what sort of hidden power Ranma possessed after all she put him through was quite insane.

He didn't have to wait long. Ranma slumped forward and dropped to her hands and knees. Mousse thought disappointedly for a moment that she had passed out, before he heard something strange. Almost like a low growling…

Mousse barely had time to dodge when Ranma lunged forward, one clawed hand swiping at him, shredding through a flap of cloth of what remained of his coat. He whirled to face her and couldn't quite believe what he saw. Ranma was on all fours, mouth curled back into a feral snarl. Any sign that she was suffering from the wounds he gave her was completely gone. Her back arched and she hissed at him, a sound that made the hackles on the back of his neck rise. But what disturbed him most was the complete lack of humanity in her eyes. Ranma was gone. He was now looking into the eyes of a cornered beast.

He raised the gun to his hip and fired three times. Ranma dodged, flitting between the bullets and closing the distance between them with incredible speed. Again she swiped at him, yowling in a disturbingly feline way, while he barely managed to keep out of the way. He fired again and ran, cursing himself for a fool. He could feel her behind him, just an arm's length away, breaths coming in harsh rasps, focused on her running prey. He whirled and let himself fall on his back, gun raised. No one was there.

He got up into a crouch and dove into an alley. He pressed his back against the wall and waited. The only sound he could hear was his own heavy breathing and the blood thundering in his head. He counted out ten seconds and ran out of the alley the way he came, sweeping his gaze around him. The only warning he received was the growing shadow forming beneath him. He whirled, looking up at a black figure that fell toward him with the sun behind it. He squinted and instinctively brought his hand up to shade his eyes from the light. The figure hurtled into him before he could shoot, knocking the air out of him and driving him into the ground.

Mousse gasped and scrambled to his feet. Ranma was crouched before him ten feet away on all fours, staring at him intently. He was sure if she had a tail, it would be quivering in anticipation. He cursed to himself softly when he realized he dropped his gun when she tackled him. He stayed perfectly still while glancing from side to side, searching for it. The gun was two feet from where he stood. He glanced back at Ranma. She looked more relaxed now, but was still staring at him. She opened her mouth in a lazy yawn, exposing her teeth. He took a slow step closer to the gun, keeping his eyes on her. Her whole body tensed and she emitted a low growl. He froze. She relaxed and sat on her haunches. She delicately licked the back of one hand and ran it through her hair, preening herself while keeping her eyes focused on him. He cursed again. She was toying with him.

He glanced over at the gun again. It was so close he could actually read the inscription on the handle, _Beretta_. He took a step and slid himself closer to it. Ranma immediately sprang to her feet and pounced. Mousse dove for the gun. He grabbed it, turned over on his back and fired.

Akane ran faster than she ever had in her life and even then she couldn't keep up with the two fighters. Ranma was stronger than she realized. She had heard stories of how powerful he was when he fought the Phoenix King Saffron but it still came as a shock to see it in real life. It was an even greater shock to see that the foreigner, Mousse, was even stronger. Even after Ranma threw everything he had against Mousse, he still seemed to do little more than make him angry. Even with the help of Ukyo and Cologne he couldn't beat him. Mousse wasn't unscathed, he was definitely hurt by the looks of him if a sudden loss of body weight and change in skin and hair color were any indication, but Ranma was in worse shape. It came to be a battle of attrition and Mousse was simply too much for him. But now things were looking up in a way. Shampoo forced Ranma to use the Nekoken and Mousse unwittingly helped her. He was on the run now with Ranma right behind him, literally screaming bloody murder.

The loud crack of a gun firing brought her and the few others who could keep up to a halt. A cold fear settled in her stomach as she imagined the bullet ripping through Ranma's body. She forced the thought out of her mind and tried to run faster.

She stopped around the place where she thought she heard the shot. It was eerily silent, and the only sound she heard was the heavy breathing of the others. For a desperate moment she thought she had run in the wrong direction, when Mousse came crashing through a nearby wall.

He lay unmoving halfway through the hole, face down in the rubble. Akane thought, and was disgusted that some part of her actually hoped, that he might be dead. That thought was soon dispelled when he stirred, groaning as he lifted himself up and began crawling out of the hole. Just as he had gotten all of his body on the other side of the wall, a pair of clawed hands shot out from the hole and gripped him around one of his ankles. He cried out in surprise as the hands jerked back, pulling his legs out from under him and sending him face first into the pavement. The hands disappeared back into the hole dragging him along with them. Mousse roared in defiance, and slammed his hands onto the pavement, burying his fingers up to the first joint. However, he only succeeded in leaving finger-sized runnels in the concrete as he was dragged inexorably back into the hole. Akane could only watch the events unfolding before her with mounting horror, as Mousse cried out again, this time in pain, losing his grip. He disappeared into the hole and she heard him scream again, louder, followed by gunshots and cat-like yowls that could only belong to Ranma.

Akane was amazed that a small part of her simply would not accept what was happening and insisted that what she was seeing was still a duel, with rules and etiquette. But she knew that this had crossed the boundaries of any duel she had ever seen long ago. This was the true face of 'anything goes.' And she knew unless someone stopped it, the end result of such a fight could only be death.

While Mousse was on his back, struggling to hold back a clawing, biting, spitting Ranma, the insanely calm part of his mind wondered if this was how Lu and Chao felt when they accidentally fell into the tiger pit he dug. He wasn't the least bit surprised by this train of thought or the memory of his first victims. The cold machine-logic that always fell over his mind in times of stress had kept him alive for as long as he could remember, and he felt it often enough that it never really came as a shock anymore.

Mousse was brought back to reality by a sharp pain below his right eye as Ranma wrested an arm away from his grip and got in a good swipe with a clawed hand. He hissed in pain and swung his freed hand in a hook, catching her in the side of the head. Mousse took advantage of her momentary disorientation and set his feet against her stomach and pushed, sending her sailing over the wall and into the street. He got up quickly, not wanting to waste time, and wiped the spittle from his face while searching for his gun. He found it jutting out from under a slab of rubble, a little scratched but still serviceable. He had fired four shots at her so far, which was three shots too many. It was now truly time to end it all.

His body ached and weariness hung heavy on him but he ignored its cries to stop and ran out of the hole, gun held at ready. Some of the crowd was still there, those that could keep up anyway, and so was Mori in the limo, but no Amazons and no Ranma. He swept his gaze across the street and up along the rooftops. He didn't realize he was looking in the totally wrong direction until Ranma was upon him.

Mousse didn't get a warning this time, so he was caught completely off guard when Ranma jumped from her perch on the wall and wrapped her legs around his arms, immobilizing them. She dug one clawed hand into his shoulder and used the other to push his head to the side, exposing his neck. She then bit into his jugular.

Mousse screamed in real pain and began thrashing wildly to force her off. But she only tightened her grip with her arms and legs and bit harder. He could feel her teeth burying deeper into his skin and his neck begin giving way under the pressure her hand put on his head in keeping it to the side. He would have shot his foot off with the pistol in his thrashings if it hadn't dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers. The machine part of his mind absently and unconcernedly reminded him that this was how large cats killed their prey, by breaking their necks while keeping a firm grip on them with their teeth. Mousse finally understood what Lu and Chao went through when the tiger killed them.

Mousse instinctively lashed out with what was left of his chi, which exploded in the form of a blinding flash of silver light. It wasn't cohesive, however, and didn't have any physical effect besides managing to stun Ranma. She hissed in surprise and leapt off him. He fell forward soundlessly.

He could feel her prowling restlessly behind him, debating whether or not to finish him off. In a daze, he realized that was searching frantically for a weapon, any weapon, but his slipping consciousness wouldn't allow him to focus on one. His mind search grew more panicked as every weapon he attempted to summon up slipped away before he could get a grasp on it. He could almost see her, crouched on all fours…

(_a weapon_)

her tongue running over a fang…

(_any weapon_)

eyes glittering in anticipation…

(_now dammit_)

muscles tensed…

(NOW)

Mousse swung the sledgehammer as Ranma pounced. He swung blindly, putting all the force he could muster behind it, half expecting to miss, and was greeted by a crunching sound as the metal head of the hammer impacted into her side. She was caught in mid-pounce and was sent flying off to the side.

Mousse lay on his back, exhausted in mind and body, and stared at the blue spring sky. The rubble-strewn pavement felt more comfortable at that moment than any bed, and he almost let unconsciousness take him, when he remembered what needed to be done. There was a killing to do.

He pushed himself up with support from the hammer and limped his way over to where Ranma lay. The only sound was a soft grinding as the heavy metal head of the hammer was dragged across the pavement. The going was slow, and the hammer caught several times on particularly large hunks of rubble, but Mousse wasn't in a hurry. Ranma wasn't going anywhere.

Ranma lay on her side facing him, her body almost convulsing with short, abrupt heaves of breath. She rolled her eyes up at him and attempted to snarl. Mousse knew he broke most of her ribs with that last swing. Some may have splintered off and punctured her lung, or maybe he crushed that as well. It wouldn't take much encouragement on his part to finally end her life.

He lifted his good leg and planted his foot on the side of her face. She snarled and attempted feebly to claw at his leg. He snarled back and ground his foot in. He lifted the hammer high, fully intent on smashing her brains out her nose, when a pair of strong hands grabbed his wrists. He whirled as best he could on his wounded leg, twisting out of grip with the hammer still raised, ready to kill whoever it was that was stopping him. What he saw almost made him drop it. Akane was in front of him, tears coursing down her face.

"Please don't hurt him anymore," she begged. "I'll go with you, just stop hurting him, please."

Mousse lowered the hammer. The crying girl triggered something inside him. He had the feeling like he was awakening from a dream.

"You're not the one I want," he replied dazedly.

"I'll go with you, just please stop hurting him, please!" She begged again and broke down in sobs, holding her face in her hands.

Mousse's tenuous hold on consciousness was beginning to slip. He suddenly felt very, very tired. Through the fog that was beginning to enshroud his mind, one thought forced itself into clarity.

_How sad Nodoka will be…when she finds that you took away her son…_

He jumped as if goosed. He looked down at Ranma, who was now unconscious, and then back at Akane.

"Alright," he said. "Stop crying."

He waited until her sobs died down to sniffles before beckoning. "Come closer."

She stepped forward tentatively. He snaked a hand around her neck and pressed a nerve. She fell forward into his arms, unconscious. He carried her in his arms and swayed under he weight. He knew she was by no means heavy, but to him now she weighed a ton. He walked over to the limo where Mori met him halfway.

"Sir?" Mori swallowed when Mousse turned his eyes toward him. "Perhaps we should take you to a doctor?"

"You didn't tell me about Ranma," Mousse replied.

Mori stiffened. "Sir, I…"

"Nevermind. Just take me back to my room. You can at least do that much right, can't you?"

Mori lowered his head. "Yes, sir."

Mori opened the door and Mousse gently laid Akane in the backseat. He took one last look back. Much of the crowd was surrounding Ranma, attempting to give him medical attention without hurting him too much. Ucchan stood glaring at him, with a white-knuckled grip on her huge spatula. He could tell she wanted to fight him, but fear held her back. He shook his head at her. Not today.

He climbed in the backseat and closed the door.

"Drive."

Mousse adjusted Akane's position until she was as comfortable as possible. She would be out for a good two hours. Perhaps she will have some of the answers he needed. As he stared at her, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that she was somehow familiar. He shrugged. It was unimportant now. The limousine's engine rumbled a soothing lullaby to him, and he was determined to enjoy it during the short trip back. He settled back in his seat and passed out.

Nobody noticed when the exotically colored cat leapt into the backseat of the limo while Mousse silently faced off with Ukyo. It now lay under the seat, staring at the back of Mousse's legs. He wasn't the only one looking for answers.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	11. Part X

It was raining when the man in black arrived in Nerima.  Not a remarkable occurrence in itself, but it was coming down with a ferocity normally reserved for typhoon season.  However, it didn't take a meteorologist to see what was causing it; a quick glance up would suffice.  Red clouds covered the sky, churning against each other in a way that made them seem alive.  Crimson lightning danced frenetically among the clouds, bathing the entire district in flickering red light.

_Now that's a lot of chi up there_,he thought, and took one last drag of the cigarette before tossing it.  He knelt and lifted the hood of his poncho slightly.  He let out the smoke in a single breath and watched as it swirled up.  The tiny cloud of smoke lasted only a moment before it disappeared in the rain, but not before he saw it travel upward in a wispy spiral.

The man in black stood and pulled the hood back over his head.  _Hiryu Shoten Ha.  That would explain the weather._

He walked alone among the debris of the battlefield, taking in the carnage.  His quarry was here, once again beating him to a Matriarch and once again using the Burning Red.  Though it seemed this time he got more than he bargained for by facing Cologne.  Perhaps the long hunt was finally over.

However, his expression darkened the more he investigated the battlefield.  He knew how Cologne fought and she was not one for long, drawn out affairs such as this fight.  Even if the quarry was on the Red, she was a crafty enough fighter to have found some way to end it quickly, in her favor or otherwise.  So that only left one other who knew the Hiryu Shoten Ha.

            A glint caught his eye.  He knelt and picked up the gun.   He scowled and crushed the filthy weapon in his hands.  His quarry was most definitely alive, he could feel it, but the same couldn't be said for Ranma.  He would never be able to forgive himself if Ranma or anyone else here died at the hands of that madman.  He threw the scrap of metal away and pulled out another cigarette.  That boy attracted trouble as easily as he attracted women.

            The man in black turned and made his way to the Tendo household.  If Ranma were still alive, he would be there.  How ironic that his quarry would lead him back home.

***

Ashes.

It was the only word Mousse could think of as he stared at his reflection.

Ashes.

He remembered a time long ago, a few years after Corbo saved him from starving to death in the Chinese wilderness, when he and the other children were brought in to see Ashes.  Ashes, the man who invented the Red and the first to burn out on it.  He remembered how Hugh's voice trembled as he told the story.  How he described the look of ecstasy and pain on Ashes' face before he went up in flames.  How the chi-fire flowed like water, blanketing the entire room in a hellish red glow.  How when the fire died, all that was left was Ashes.  His real name was David.

Mousse could still remember the soft swishingsound of the respirator keeping Ashes alive as Hugh regained his composure and listed the side effects of using the Red.  Discoloration of skin and hair, internal hemorrhaging, emaciation, gran mal seizures, cerebral deterioration.  Mousse was by no means religious, but as he stared into Ashes's eyes, he realized that those were just symptoms to a more sinister end that awaited anyone who used the Red.  When you use the Red, you risk losing your soul.

Mousse couldn't remember how many quiet hours he spent seated beside Ashes, thinking.  The others knew he was prone to fall into periods of deep, almost meditative thought, so he wasn't worried about arousing suspicion.  They may have thought it was morbid curiosity that drew him there, or perhaps contemplation on the fragility of life.  He spent those hours pondering whether it was worth using a tool that would cost him his soul to destroy those who had wronged him.  In the end, he came to the realization that is wasn't too difficult of a decision to make.  The Amazons had already killed a part of his soul.  If the rest of it died while taking his revenge, then so be it.

Before he left, he unplugged the machine keeping Ashes alive.

            "Can you raise your arms, sir?" murmured the doctor.

            Mousse raised his arms, keeping his eyes on his reflection while the doctor continued wrapping the bandages around his torso.  His gaunt, slat-ribbed torso.  He counted off the number of ribs in his mind, now visible underneath taut, pale skin.  Pale, except for where wounds old and new criss-crossed each other.  The good doctor was taking great care to wrap the bandages light, for fear of breaking the new wounds open.  

Mousse knew he had seen better days, but he also knew that he should count himself lucky.  He paid the price for underestimating his opponent and second chances are hard to come by.  He knew how close he was to losing it all; his life, his soul, his chance for retribution, all in a single fight.  He would have laughed if not for the pain.  A cocky transsexual martial artist from out of nowhere had come closer to killing him than any one of the Matriarchs.  Life can throw some pretty mean curveballs at times.

The nurse moved aside a sweep of his hair, now an unnatural shade of black-flecked gray, to treat the bite wound on his neck.  He drew in a sharp breath as she rubbed in the disinfectant.

_Can't believe he actually bit me_, he thought, gritting his teeth as the nurse cleaned the wound.  _Fucking psycho._

Mousse was disturbed by how much of the fight he couldn't remember.  Most of it was nothing but a blur in his mind, with glaring blank spots scattered through it.  The few parts he could remember were no less disturbing than the parts he couldn't.  Ranma using Amazon techniques.  The Chestnut Fist.  The tornado that sucked away his chi.  Ranma acting like a wild beast and almost ripping his head off.  And through it all, the rage that permeated every fiber of his being.  It would be easy to blame the Red, but the Red could only magnify whatever the user was feeling at the time.  He shuddered.  Even now, ten years after the fact, it was hard for him to accept the truly dark side of himself.  The side that wanted nothing less than total annihilation of everything.

            The doctor paused in his ministrations.  "Does it hurt?

            "It hurts all the time," Mousse replied.  "Are you almost done?"

            "I am now," he said, tying the last end of the bandage.  "You should reconsider going to the hospital.  These wounds are quite serious."

            "That won't be necessary."

            "Of course not," he muttered.  "What do I know, I'm just a doctor."

            Mousse was about to remind the good doctor that he was being paid to treat him, not offer an opinion, but the words died as white-hot pain shot up his neck.  He hissed and whipped around to face the nurse, who had just removed a long needle from the bite wound.  She backed up quickly in wide-eyed fear, stammering apologies, and so couldn't catch him when he fell.  Bright spots of silver blossomed and danced in his vision.  When the spots disappeared he found the doctor had caught him and was supporting his weight with ease.  A few hours ago the doctor would never have been able to catch him like that.  Mousse shrugged the doctor off and shot a baleful glare at the nurse.

             "If you're done, I have a guest I must attend to," Mousse said, pulling on a robe.

            The doctor sighed.  "This is all I can do outside of the proper facilities."

            "Then leave.  Mori will pay you."

            "Very well.  Don't eat solid food for about a week and take it easy.  If you need additional treatment you have my number."  He cast a glance toward the bed.  "Does the girl need help?"

            "The girl is fine.  Goodbye doctor."

            The doctor looked as though he was about to say something else but just shook his head.  Mousse watched in the mirror as the doctor and the nurse packed up and left.  He wasn't worried about not fully recovering.  Either he would or he wouldn't; it didn't concern him as long as he was still able to pay the Amazons in full for what they have done.  He turned from the mirror and shuffled out of the bathroom.  The girl was still sound asleep on the bed.  Lucifer was curled up against her, purring contentedly.  The kitten had taken quite a liking to her.  

            A flash of movement out of the corner of his vision caught his attention.  He turned, slower this time, not wanting a repeat of what happened earlier.   There was nothing.  He glanced at Lucifer.  It was still asleep, curled into a ball against Akane.

            Mousse shook his head.  _I'm starting to see things.  That can't be good._

            He made his way past Akane's unconscious form to sit at the table placed beside a large window.  A spectacular view of the city stretched out before him, the Tokyo skyline burning a fiery orange-red from the setting sun.  He watched unmoving as sunset moved on into twilight.  More memories came to him, as they always did when he wasn't occupied, ones that he would prefer remain buried.  His brief, but violent childhood in the Amazon village.  The death of his father in the senseless war with the Musk.  The betrayal by the Matriarchs.  What they did to him after.  He couldn't suppress a shudder as night set in.  The old fear stole over him, but he refused to move.  It would be a scar that would stay with him for a long time after the Amazons were all dead, but he was determined not to let them have the satisfaction in knowing they had hurt him so deeply.  Nonetheless, he was relieved when there was a knock at the door.

            "Come in," he called.

            The light came on as Mori walked in, bearing his dinner on a tray.  The hotel staff refused to bring him room service after the incident where he almost decapitated a waiter with a rather large sword.  Mousse thought they were being unreasonable.  If the man had simply knocked before entering he wouldn't have had six feet of Scotch steel thrown at him.  So much for 'the customer is always right.'

            Mousse watched silently as Mori placed the tray in front of him.  Mori kept his eyes down as he worked, placing silverware and napkin down and then removing the elaborately worked bell-shaped cover from the plate.  A variety of fresh fruits were artfully arranged on it, meant to look as pleasing to the eye as they would taste to the tongue.  When he was done he stepped off to the side silently.  Mousse watched all this with a bemused expression.

            "You can stop sulking, Mori," he said, taking a single grape and popping it in his mouth.  "It's not a big deal."

            "I failed you, sir," replied Mori, keeping his eyes downcast.  "You could have died."

            Mousse shrugged and popped another grape in his mouth.  "Like I said, no big deal."

            "But sir-"

            "Let it go, Mori.  That's an order."

            Mori sighed.  "Yes, sir."

            Mousse pushed the plate aside and clasped his hands in front of him.  "Now, I want you to send a couple men back to Nerima to pick up the weapons I left there.  Tell them to do it quickly, I don't want them caught by the police or anyone else who might have an interest in what I'm doing."

            Mori bowed and made for the door, but paused and turned back.  "Sir…"

            Mousse, now a little irate, spoke sharply.  "What is it?"

            Mori shifted his weight nervously, but didn't say anything.  

Mousse noticed the old man kept glancing at the unconscious form on the bed.  He raised an eyebrow.  "Do you want to tell me something?"

Mori cleared his throat.  "I was just wondering what you were going to do with the young lady."  He cleared his throat again.  "If you were going to… hurt her."

Mousse blinked and then laughed.  He laughed hard enough to double over on the table.  He only stopped when his body cried out in protest at the exertion.

"Oh Mori, you surprise me," he said, wiping a tear from his eye.  "I never figured an old hardass like yourself would have a soft spot for young girls.  So what, you have a daughter, granddaughter?  Maybe she reminds you of a ladyfriend you used to have way back when?"

Mori stiffened.  "Sir, I assure you, I-"

Mousse cut him off with a waving of his hand.  "Yeah I know, I know, I was just messing with you.  Now go on, get out of here.  I'm just going to ask our guest a few questions.  I was never planning on hurting her."

Mori bowed and left, but not before Mousse saw a slightly relieved smile on his face.  He shook his head.  _Just when you think you know a guy._

Mousse settled back into the chair and closed his eyes.  Weariness settled like a blanket over his wasted body, but he forced himself to stay awake.  There would be time enough for sleep later.  He was telling the truth when he told Mori he wasn't going to hurt her.  He'd had his fill of pain for the day.  But that didn't mean he wouldn't give her a scare if she chose to be disagreeable.

            He shifted into a more comfortable position in the chair and waited for her to awake.

***

Akane awoke to a silky purring sound.  Her first sleep-filled thoughts were, _We don't have a cat_, and then the memory of what happened hit her in a headlong rush.  She bolted upright, earning her a surprised mew from her sleeping companion.  She whipped her head around, taking in her surroundings.  The room was almost the size of her family's dojo, furnished in a western style.  It was beautifully appointed but sparse, as though the owner had most of the furniture removed to make room.  Even the bed she lay on, which was more than twice the size of her own, had no more than a pillow on it.  Her breath caught when she saw said owner.

He sat at a table at the far end of the room, set next to a large porch window where she could see the darkening Tokyo skyline.  He didn't appear to be moving.  She leaned forward, squinting to get a better look at him in the softly lit room.  Her eyes widened when she saw that his head was bowed forward in unconsciousness, his long gray hair obscuring his face.  She leaned back slowly.  It seemed too easy, but she knew that now would be the best time to attempt escape.  

She climbed softly off the bed and set her feet on the soft maroon carpeting.  A loud plaintive mewing behind her made her draw up in surprise.  She turned and saw that the kitten that was sleeping next to her was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking up at her.  She put her finger to her lips and made a shushing sound at it before continuing her silent way toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

She froze in mid-step and turned her head.  Her captor was awake, looking at her with a slightly amused smile on his face.  She glanced back toward the door.  She was close enough that she didn't think he'd be able to catch her if she ran.  And if he did catch her, she doubted he was in any shape for a fight.  She glanced back at him.  He shook his head, the amused look still on his face.

"Don't."

Akane tensed for a moment, considering her options, before her shoulders sagged in defeat.  A feeling of weary déjà vu swept over her.  Her mind turned to times when she was kidnapped.  Pantyhose Taro, Kirin, the Bird People, and now this.  She didn't know why she was even surprised.  Once again she was reduced to being a prisoner, bait, or, she shuddered, a bride, and once again it would be up to Ranma to rescue her.  That is, if he was still alive.

She took a seat across from him, where he watched her with curious green eyes.  She stared back obstinately.  Her eyes drifted behind him, where she could see the towering skyscrapers of the business sector of Tokyo.  She wondered briefly where her captor had taken her, before turning her attention to him again.

"Well?" she asked.

He didn't answer, but reached to the side where a platter of fruits lay.  He pulled it in front of him and picked out a small orange and began to peel it with long, bony fingers.  Akane's eyes narrowed.  He was in much worse shape than she thought.  He reminded her of one of the people she saw on the television, who lived in such abject poverty and hunger they couldn't find the strength to brush away the flies that crowded around their wasted bodies.  He looked much the same way, wearing a robe that seemed two sizes too big for him.  While she did feel a small bit of concern for him, she knew that he was much stronger than he looked.  But if he was hurt, there might be a chance that she could fight her way to freedom.  She started when something small and furry jumped on to her lap.  She looked down to see the black kitten curling up into a ball and falling fast asleep.

Mousse grinned.  "I see Lucifer has taken a liking to you."  He held out the half-peeled orange to her.  "Orange slice?"

Akane shook her head.  Any hope of escape by fighting was dashed.  He may look weak now but his voice still carried enough strength that she knew she would lose if she tried to fight.  But she was tired of being the victim.  Maybe she couldn't fight him, but there were other ways to escape.  Maybe she could-

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

Akane blinked.  "Do what?"

"Sacrifice yourself," he replied, peeling off a section of orange.  He popped it into his mouth, sucking the out the juice and then devouring the pulp.

"I couldn't let you keep hurting him.  Why are you asking me this anyway?  You got what you wanted, didn't you?"  Akane said in a steely voice.

"No, I did not get what I wanted," he replied, peeling off another slice of orange.

"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely confused now.  "You wanted me, didn't you?"

He smiled slightly.  "I wanted the Amazon.  I've only met you today.  Why would I want you?"

Akane flushed in embarrassment.  "Well, I-"

"I don't want you.  I wanted his fiancée."

"But I am his fiancée."

Akane drew back when he looked at her.  All the good nature he had been exhibiting disappeared in an instant, replaced with a hard, penetrating glare.

"Don't lie to me," he said quietly.

Akane shook off her fear and glared back at him.  "I'm not lying."

He stared at her for a moment longer, as though searching for the truth on her face, before turning back to his orange.

"So what are you saying?" he asked.  "Ranma has two fiancées?"

Akane shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  "Well, actually he has three."

Mousse paused for a moment in peeling the orange.  "Three?  I wasn't aware that polygamy was practiced in Japan."

"No, it's not like that," she protested.  "It's… well it's complicated."

Mousse nodded slowly.  "I think I see.  You were already affianced to him when he defeated the Amazon in combat, am I right?"  He smiled.  "That must make you bitter that someone else has a claim to him."

"Well, yeah sort of," she said.  And then quickly, "No!  I mean, I didn't ask to be his fiancé or anything like that.  It was our fathers' idea."

"So you're saying you don't care for him?" he said, the smile still on his face.

"Yes.  I mean no!  I mean…" Akane stammered, flustered by his questioning.

He held up his hands.  "Don't worry, I think I get it.  So, who is the third?"

"Ukyo," she said, looking relieved that the conversation took another direction.

He raised his eyebrows.  "Really?  That would explain much.  And the name of the other?  The Amazon?"

She blinked, confused.  _He wants her, but doesn't know her name?_  "Shampoo?"

He nodded as though in understanding.  "Shampoo.  Yes."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, disturbed only by the kittens purring.

Akane couldn't take much more of it.  "Why do you want her?"

Mousse looked up, and she got the impression that she had disturbed some deep thoughts he was having.  "Excuse me?"

"Why do you want her so badly?  What did she do to you?"

He grinned, and this time there was no good humor in it.  To Akane it looked the way a shark might grin.  "She didn't do anything.  Her great-grandmother did."

"Then why do you want to marry her?" she asked, confused.

He stared at her.  "Marry her?"  And then he burst out laughing

Akane shivered as he laughed.  The sound was enough to make her skin crawl.  She didn't want to think what he would have done to Shampoo if she were here instead.  

The laughter stopped abruptly.  "You're free to go."

Akane started.  "What?"

"I said you may go now if you want.  I never intended to kidnap you, and I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you," he said, and bowed his head.

Akane gaped.  _He's letting me go?  And he's apologizing?  Unbelievable._

She watched in disbelief as he pulled out a phone from nowhere.  "Bring the limo out front and take the lady home."

"No, you don't have to do that," protested Akane, still unsure if she could trust him.  "I can find my way home."

He gave her a flat look.  "It would take you the rest of the night to get to Nerima from here.  Besides, I wouldn't feel right letting a pretty girl like you to walk home unescorted."

            "Well, I-" Akane said, turning red in the face.

            "It's no problem, believe me," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.  "It's the least I can do after putting you through all this."

            "Um, okay," she said, and stood, placing the sleepy kitten on the table and turning to the door.  "Thanks for letting me go, I guess."

            He raised his hand in goodbye and smiled in response.

            Akane walked to the door as quickly as she could without seeming to be afraid.  He seemed nice enough now, but she couldn't get past the feeling that he was simply toying with her.  So she almost jumped out of her skin as he called her name.

            "Akane?"

            She turned as calmly as she could.  "Yes," she managed.

            He cocked his head.  "What is your surname?"

            She blinked.  "My surname?  Tendo.  Why?"

            He nodded.  "You reminded me of someone I knew.  Goodbye, Miss Tendo."

            She frowned in thought as she stepped out into the hall.  A man in what she assumed was the hotel dress was waiting beside the door.  He bowed and motioned for her to step ahead of him.

            "Miss?  Mister Sun has arranged for your transportation.  This way."

            In the limo, which she thought was almost as big as the room she was in, Akane thought about why all the weird things that happen to her happen as they do.  She wondered if Ranma was all right.  But most of all, she wondered about Mousse.  

_Who is he? _She thought. _ What does he want with Cologne and Shampoo?   And why did he say I look familiar?_

***

            Mousse lay staring up at the ceiling.  Things were becoming more complicated, but no matter.  The events of the day had little impact on his plans.  Cologne would still die in the most horrible fashion imaginable, but not before she saw her progeny killed before her eyes.

            He frowned._  Xian Pu._  He felt a tickle of memory as he said her name.  The more he thought of it, the more familiar she seemed to be.  He turned on his side.  Again, no matter.  She would die too.

            And then there was the matter of Miss Tendo Akane.  He wasn't sure how Nabiki would take the fact that he had kidnapped her sister.  Not well, likely.  He knew it shouldn't matter one way or another whether Nabiki liked it or not, but he still couldn't help but feel like an ass about the whole situation.  He was attracted to her, that was undeniable, and it couldn't have happened at a worse time.  The last thing he needed was a girl on his mind at a time like this.

Lucifer jumped onto the bed and curled up against his chest.  Mousse felt his eyelids grow heavy as he pet the purring cat.  There would be time enough to worry.  Now, he just felt like sleeping.

            _Soon,_ he thought.  _Very soon._

***

            Shampoo crouched underneath the bed.  Violent Girl had left and Mousse's breathing had become steady and rhythmic.  She crept out from beneath the bed and leapt up, landing softly on the silk sheets.  A hissing sound greeted her.  Another cat faced her, no more than a kitten really, its back arched and fur standing on end.  A quick swipe of her paw sent it away.

            _Don't mess with the big cats, little one_, Shampoo thought smugly.

            She padded closer to Mousse's sleeping form.  She froze as he suddenly began to spasm as his body was wracked by coughs.  It was a dying man's hacking cough and shook his entire body, but the fit disappeared as quickly as it came about.  Once again his body resumed its deep, steady breathing.

            Her feline eyes widened as she came close enough to him to get a good look.  He had disrobed before falling asleep and was wearing nothing more than his smallclothes.  Whatever technique he had used to become a demon had burned away much of the mass from his body.  The muscles he had left were starkly accented almost to the point of grotesqueness.  Scars also criss-crossed his body, especially the part of his arms between the wrist and elbow.  She could see that some of them were recent, but the majority of them had to have been there for years.  Especially the ugly one around his throat.  It was as though someone had tried to hang him and decided to let him go before he could choke to death.

            Shampoo crept closer until she could see his face.  He looked surprisingly peaceful like this.  He would cough slightly at times, but besides that his sleep was undisturbed.  He slept like the dead.

            _What happened to you, my friend?_ She thought as she watched him.  _What changed you?_

            She stretched her neck out and nuzzled his cheek.  _I promise I'll help you, Mu Tzu.  I'll make you remember me._

            Mousse muttered softly, and Shampoo was surprised when he rolled over onto his side and reached out to lay his hand on her head.

            "Good cat," he sighed, and the hand fell away.

            Shampoo relaxed when she realized he wasn't awakening, he was just talking in his sleep.  She reached out with a paw and lay it on his hand.

            _I'll be back Mu Tzu.  I promise._


	12. Part XI

            Ukyo watched as the rain fell from a blood red sky, and wondered if it was reasonable to blame someone for the weather.  The weather started acting up halfway to the Tendo's, the sky turning a deep crimson hue and then boiling over with ominous clouds flickering with barely contained lightning.  She had Ranma's battered form slung over her shoulder, sprinting the way to the dojo, thinking the entire way that the redhead was going to die if she couldn't go any faster.  The dojo wasn't the first place she would have taken him.  After Mousse left she immediately scattered the gawkers standing over Ranma with a swing of her giant spatula.  Her first instinct was to take him to the nearest hospital, but surprisingly enough Nabiki stepped in.  "No, take him to my house," she had said, calm as ever.  Before Ukyo could object, Nabiki said, "The nearest hospital is at least fifteen miles away.  You don't know if he'll still be alive when you get there.  Besides, I'm not sure if they'll keep him when he wakes up."  Ukyo had no choice but to agree; if Ranma did wake up, he would still be a cat in a human's body.  So it was a few minutes later that she found herself vaulting over the gate to the Tendo compound and kicking in the front door to collapse in a wet, exhausted heap in front of the Tendo and Saotome families.  Once over the initial shock, their reaction was predictable.  Even now, sitting on the patio and shivering in her wet clothes, she could hear the sobs of Nodoka and Soun, with Genma and Kasumi respectively trying to console them.

            Ukyo drew her knees up against her body and wrapped her arms around them.  She didn't know how long she sat there, brooding over the bloody rain when something warm and soft was draped across her shoulders.  She looked up to see Nodoka, her eyes still red and puffy from crying, holding out a steaming cup to her.  Ukyo took it gratefully and drank.  It was honey sweet, with an underlying sharpness that surprised her.  _Ginger root, she thought.  When Nodoka knelt beside her, silently staring at the rain, she didn't know what to say.  __What can I say?  That I let your son get mauled by some freak of nature and that when I tried to stop him he just yelled at me for using a spatula?  Tears stung her eyes and her own sobs threatened to come out, so she couldn't answer Nodoka's question._

            "Ucchan, what happened?" she asked gently.

            She tried to answer, but nothing would come out except a choking sound.  Then she started weeping in earnest.  "I couldn't stop him," she cried.  "He was too strong and when he hurt Ranma I couldn't do anything and when I tried he…"  She trailed off in sobs.  _She won't want me for a daughter, she won't, I couldn't protect her son and now he's going to die.  She felt Nodoka's hands touch her shoulders and gently wrap around to hold her in an embrace.  Nodoka rocked back and forth, murmuring soothing sounds, while Ukyo cried the day's fears and frustrations away._

When Ukyo finished, Nodoka pulled away and smiled softly at her.  "Do you feel better now, dear?"

Ukyo sniffed and rubbed a sleeve across her eyes.  "Yeah," she said.  She looked sheepish.  "Thanks."

"It's all right Ucchan.  Sometimes you need to cry," she replied, dabbing at her own eyes with a sleeve of her kimono.  Her face took on a more serious look.  "Now, what happened?  Who hurt Ranma?"

Ukyo clenched the hand not holding the cup.  An image of boy with long black hair and jade eyes grinning mockingly at her flashed through her mind.  "Mousse," she hissed.  "His name was Mousse."  A gasp from Nodoka made her look up.  "What's wrong?"

"Mousse..."  There was a look on Nodoka's face that Ukyo didn't like, something between horror and disbelief.  "Are you certain?" she asked in a way that Ukyo knew she wasn't going to like the answer.

"That's what he called himself," she said.  "You know him don't you?"

Nodoka sighed at her question that wasn't a question and looked resigned.  "He seemed like such a nice boy when he helped me out of the rain.  So courteous.  I thought it would be nice for Ranma to have a friend like that so I invited him to the house."

A chill went up Ukyo's spine at that.  _He was here__?  She looked around as though searching for hidden assailants.  She wasn't normally a superstitious person, but after seeing all she had today, she wouldn't be surprised if Mousse's very presence had somehow tainted the house.  She focused her attention on Nodoka again as she continued._

"…and he left."  She looked up at Ukyo.  "Why would he do such a thing?  Why would he want to hurt my son?"

_Why?  Ukyo thought bitterly.  __Why does anyone want to hurt Ranma?  There are so many people with so many reasons that there's no point in asking why.  "I don't know," she replied.  A knock at the front door made her look over her shoulder through the den, and she saw Kasumi going to answer it.  Even Kasumi looked troubled over what happened.  Ukyo turned back around.  It was probably Nabiki coming back.  Nabiki may possibly be the most coldly intelligent person she knew (she always had the suspicion that maybe it was her who took care of the family finances), but she was still only human in regards to physical performance.  It would take her at least fifteen minutes to get back here.  A darker thought forced its way into Ukyo's mind.  __Or maybe it's Mousse coming back. __Coming back to pay a visit.   It sent a thrill of fear through her and she shivered._

"Ucchan, are you cold?" Nodoka asked.  "You should go inside."

She shook her head, both as a negative response and to clear it.  "I'm all right.  We probably should go inside."  She stood, clutching the blanket around her shoulders in one hand and the now cold tea in the other.  _Mousse wouldn't come back here.  There's no way, the shape he was in.  He looked almost as bad as Ranma.  A shriek from the furo made her jump.  She saw Kasumi backing away from the door, hands to her mouth and eyes wide with fear.  The fear came back tenfold.  __He's here.  He's come back for Ranma.  She dropped the blanket and the cup, scattering shards of porcelain and cold tea everywhere.  She gripped the handle of the giant battle spatula strapped across her back in a white-knuckle grip and ran to the door, ignoring Nodoka's cries._

She saw him stepping out of the furo, dressed all in black, like when he first came to eat at her restaurant.  He wore a poncho with the hood up to keep out the rain so she couldn't see his face, but there was no doubt in her mind that it was him.  She eased the spatula out of its sheathe and brought it over her head, reaching up with her right hand to join the left in its grip.  Then she was flying through the air, leaping up with her weapon raised, edge down.  In spite of what he said about her spatula, it could split his head open just as easily as any battleaxe if it hit with the edge instead of the flat.  And she was going to give him a first hand account of its effectiveness.  She let out a battle cry as she brought it down.  Time seemed to stretch out as she hung in the air for an eternity as he turned his head around and up to stare at his impending doom in surprise.  She grinned fiercely as the spatula came down…

…and was stopped as he clapped his hands around the blade a bare centimeter from his face.  She hung for another eternity, staring open-mouthed in disbelief.  He twisted his wrists so that the spatula was turned sideways and stepped out of the way as she came crashing down.  She scrambled to her feet only to find her own spatula held up under chin.  She glared at him defiantly.  She was not going to give him the pleasure of seeing her cower before him.  She waited for the jab at her throat that would end her life.  So she was surprised when he lowered the spatula and pulled back the hood of his poncho to reveal his face.  And it wasn't _his face.  This one was older, maybe in his twenties, though the hard, weary look in his eyes made him well beyond that.  A pair of spectacles sat on the bridge of his nose and his shoulder length brown hair was pulled back into a loose tail.  She barely had time to wonder who the hell he was before she heard someone gasp behind her._

"Doctor Tofu?"

***

_So this is the infamous Dr. Tofu Ono, Ukyo thought.  From what she had heard, he was something of a legend around the Nerima area before his mysterious disappearance.  A master chiropractor, he first appeared five years ago to open a small clinic just a few blocks from the house she was in now.  It was said he could cure for what was ailing you, a broken bone, a common cold, and everything in between, by a simple touch.  He was also said to be a highly skilled martial artist, able to paralyze opponents with that same touch.  However, the stories she heard also mentioned his inability to act like a normal human being when around Kasumi.  Whenever she was around he would do anything from eat furniture to dancing around with a skeleton he kept at his clinic named 'Betty.'  If so, then he was showing some incredibly remarkable restraint; he only looked a little tense kneeling beside Kasumi at the table.  In fact, he barely looked at her at all.  Ukyo wondered if maybe he was Kasumi's ex-boyfriend, or even lover.  She discounted the thought quickly.  Kasumi looked happy to see him, and stories were just stories after all._

Introductions were made around the table for those who did not know the doctor and an uncomfortable silence fell over the room.  Ukyo was sure he was confused, not arriving to what he probably assumed was going to be a warm welcome.   Instead, he clasped his hands together on the table and said, "Tell me about him."

Ukyo shared a confused glance with Nodoka across the table.  "About who?"

"The one who fought with Ranma," he replied.

Silence fell across the room again, this time stunned.  He looked up.  "He did fight with Ranma, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," Soun replied.  He cleared his throat nervously.  "But tell me, how did you know?"

Tofu just nodded, staring at his hands.  "Just a hunch."  He looked up.  "Is Ranma all right?"

"Ranchan's upstairs.  Sleeping." Ukyo replied tersely before anyone else could answer.  She stared at the doctor with open suspicion.  He knew far too much for someone who had just arrived.  "You didn't answer the question.  How did you know?"

He looked calmly at her.  There was something about him she didn't like.  Something that reminded her of Mousse.  He shrugged, and said, "Like I said, a hunch.  I assumed my quarry would have some sort of contact with Ranma as soon as he got here."

"Your quarry?" asked Nodoka.  Something about the word seemed to worry her.  "What do you mean by that?"

Tofu sighed, looking weary and impatient of all the questions.  "I have been hunting him for most of the past year.  He is my quarry."

Ukyo frowned.  Something didn't smell right.  Why does he want to stop Mousse?  What reason could he have to leave his home for almost a year to hunt someone whose name he didn't even know?  A sudden earsplitting yowl cut through the air, popping any other bubbles of suspicion that rose in her mind.

The doctor was on his feet instantly.  "What was that?"  The cat's cry came again, followed by a heavy thudding that came from the ceiling.  His eyes locked on Ukyo, and for a moment she saw his hands dip down to his hips.  As though he were reaching for something that should have been hanging there.  "Ranma."

She nodded, up only a moment after him.  She was aware of the rest of the people scrambling to their feet.  "Upstairs," she said.  "Second door on the right."  And then he was gone, disappearing in a black blur.

***

They had tied up Ranma and wrapped her as tightly as they could in a heavy blanket, and then tied over the blanket.  The binds were made of silk cords Soun used to tie together the pieces of samurai armor that was the Tendo family heirloom, and so were extremely strong.  In spite of this, when Ukyo reached the entrance to the room she saw that Ranma was convulsing violently in her cocoon, flopping her body like a fish and had almost wrestled an arm out.  Ranma hissed and spit the entire while in her struggles to be free while Tofu stood there, looking down impassively.

"Aren't you going to do something?" Ukyo demanded.

"Yes," he replied absently and began moving.  He looked lost in thought as he stared at Ranma.  Ukyo had the impression he was studying Ranma with the same concentration as a doctor would a particularly unwilling, violent patient.  As he neared Ranma, she grew still, glaring at him and growling back in her throat.  He squatted down next to her, arms resting on his knees.  For a moment all was perfect stillness, and then suddenly he lashed out with an arm and grabbed hold of her head under the chin.  Ranma tried to hiss at the doctor, but his grip was firm.  He pushed back her head until her neck was exposed and jabbed a finger from his other hand into a place just under her ear.  She convulsed once, back arched and eyes wide and staring at the ceiling.  He released his grip on her jaw and gently pushed on her stomach until her back was on the floor.

A cry of "_Ranma!_" went up in unison among the household and they rushed to her side as the doctor stepped away.  Ukyo was the first there.  She wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't the sight of Ranma peacefully sleeping.

"He should be alright now," said Tofu, moving toward the exit.  "I'll be back to check on him."

Ukyo tore herself away from Ranma long enough run after the doctor as he was walking down the hall.  She still had questions.  "Wait!" she cried.  He stopped and turned as he was going down the stairs.  He stared at her, and for a moment she lost her voice.  The resemblance she thought she saw between him and Mousse was suddenly stronger.  It wasn't a physical resemblance; the two didn't look like they could even be distantly related.  It was more of an aura around them both, something that she couldn't put a name to.  "Why are you here?" she finally got out.

"To stop him," the doctor replied.

"Why?" she pressed.

"Because he is my responsibility," he said as he went down the stairs.  "Because he is family."

***

Nabiki found Cologne back at the Nekohanten, seated at one of the wide tables and brooding over her long tobacco pipe.  Cologne didn't even look up when the bells chimed, announcing her arrival.  She took a seat across from Cologne and they sat in silence, waiting for the other to speak.  From the look outside, she knew she wasn't a moment too soon in getting to the restaurant.  The sky was turning the most hideous shade of crimson, boiling over with dark clouds flickering with lightning.  Under any other circumstances, she would think it was foolish to blame the weather on a person, but then again Mousse wasn't like anyone she's ever met before.  Mousse.  She wasn't sure how she felt about him taking off with her sister.  Angry?  Hardly.  It seems that not a month goes by that something like this happens.  Exasperated?  Of course.  It seems that not a month goes by that something like this happens.  But most of all she felt disappointed.  He seemed so different from the others in a way she couldn't figure out, and that caught her interest.  But now he's just another overpowered maniac that would more than likely develop a crush on her little sister.  And so it goes on and on.

"Seek your answers elsewhere, girl," said Cologne.  "You'll find none here."

Nabiki snapped back to reality.  There was no point in sulking over someone who wouldn't be interested in her anymore.  Even if he was handsome.  And charming.  And rich.  "Oh, I think I will," she said.  "After all, you seem to know more about our mutual friend than you're letting on.  It's obvious that he was after you, and you tried to use Ranma as a tool to get rid of him."

Cologne looked up.  "That's not true.  He wanted my great-granddaughter and he had to challenge son-in-law for her hand.  What happened was unfortunate, but inevitable."

Nabiki shrugged.  "That won't be the story I tell to his family.  And they certainly won't be happy about Ranma being beaten half to death because of skeletons in your closet."

Cologne's teeth clenched around the teeth so hard Nabiki thought the stem might snap.  "How much?" she growled.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play coy with me, girl," she said.  "I know your game.  Now how much?"

Nabiki thought she was more surprised than Cologne when she slammed her open palm on the table.  "You think I want money?  You hag, it's because of you that this happened and it almost got Ranma killed and my sister kidnapped!"  She leaned forward.  "I want answers.  And I want them now."

Cologne looked startled at first, whether at Nabiki's outburst or the fact that she actually stood up to her, but she soon settled back in her seat, a slight smile on her face.  "It's rare that I meet someone who would dare speak to me in such a way."  She puffed on her pipe.  "Now stay quiet while I tell you.  In a nutshell, Mousse has always been this violent, even as a child.  I believed it was a malaise of the mind, and still do.  Because of this, he had few friends in the village, except for my great-granddaughter.  He developed some sort of childish infatuation for her."  She chuckled.  "He actually thought he was in love."

Nabiki nodded when Cologne stopped, urging her to go on.  Something about the story didn't feel right, but it was better to get all the information before making a judgment.

"Anyway, I was uncomfortable with the thought of my heir becoming the center of that boy's attention, so I sent her away for training.  It was then that we learned what it was that we were dealing with.  He became increasingly violent and withdrawn from the tribe.  When he fought, he didn't care so much about winning as hurting his opponent.  One day two children from the village, both boys, went missing.  We found them dead in the woods, where Mousse usually went off on his own."  Cologne's expression darkened.  "I knew the two boys.  They acted as males do, exploiting the weak to feel more secure about themselves.  Mousse was often their victim.  So when they were found dead in the woods, we knew he killed them."

"And what did you do?"

"We banished him from the village.  He may have been a monster, but he was still a child.  We don't kill children."

_So you left him in the wilderness to die._  "So what about him now?"

"Now?  I don't know.  He was a promising fighter, as long as he had the proper motivation, but I never dreamed he would be like this.  I can only imagine what he went through to become this strong."

"I see," said Nabiki.  She stood up.  "Thank you for telling me your story.  I should go home now."

"Take an umbrella from the stand when you go out.  You won't be telling the others any alternate version of my story, I trust?"

"Of course not.  Now that I know the truth, I can tell them to be more careful in the future when dealing with Mousse."

"I'm glad we understand each other, Miss Tendo.  Good day."

***

            Nabiki ran home under blood red skies, digesting the information Cologne had given her.  At least, Cologne's version of it.  There are always two sides to every story, and she was sure this was no exception.  Cologne's story was simple and believable, but she had a gut feeling that the old woman wasn't telling the whole truth.  She would have tried to dig deeper, but while she was curious, she wasn't suicidal.  She didn't doubt the old woman would do something drastic if she thought she was being overly curious.

            Nabiki picked up the pace.  All she had to do now was worry about her sister.  Hopefully Ukyo got Ranma back to the house in time.  She didn't think he would be in any sort of shape to pull off a rescue, not as a cat anyway, but hopefully one of the others, his mother most likely, would be able to snap him out of it.  She sighed.  So many complications and she didn't know the rules of the game.  For now, it looked as though the only thing she could do was wait.  For now.

***

            It was night when Shampoo got back to the Nekohanten.  She was still a cat, but Cologne had the prudence to create an entrance to the kitchen for her.  It was dark in the restaurant, but her sharp feline eyes easily found the kettle on the stove.  She jumped on the counter and delicately touched the kettle with a paw.  Satisfied with the temperature, she pushed it over.  She jumped to the ground quickly and crouched beneath the falling water.  An instant later, a naked, human Shampoo stood up.  She shivered in the cool air and made her way up the stairs to her room.

            "It's about time you're home, child," said Cologne just as she was at the foot of the stairs.  She hopped down from the chair she was sitting in, one shadow among many.  "I was almost worried about you."

            Shampoo froze.  "There was nothing to worry about, great-grandmother," she said, hoping her voice didn't sound too nervous.  She forced out a laugh.  "I just got lost chasing after the car."

            Cologne looked at her great-granddaughter speculatively.  "Is that so?"

            Shampoo was suddenly glad it was dark and she was already wet.  Otherwise, the old woman would have been able to see the sweat forming on her brow.  _She knows._  "Yes," she said, not knowing what else to say."

            Cologne gazed at her for a moment longer, before saying, "I was hoping you had managed to follow the boy back to his lair and kill him there, but no matter.  Go upstairs and pack your bags, we leave in the morning."

            "Why?" Shampoo asked in confusion.

            "This place has become too dangerous by far.  I know a friend in another ward who will shelter us until Mousse is dealt with.  Besides, certain people are asking annoying questions."

            Shampoo wondered how Cologne would react if she heard her questions.  "I'll go now."  She paused at the second step.  "Great-grandmother?"

            "Yes?"

            "Where did you send Lin-lin and Lan-lan?

            From where she was, she couldn't see Cologne's face, but she had the impression she was smiling.  "To ask for assistance."

            Shampoo was surprised.  "You will bring the tribe's warriors here?"

            Shampoo heard a snort.  "Don't be foolish, child.  They wouldn't stand a chance against him.  And we are certainly not going to fight him, nor Ranma.  No, I think someone a bit more suited to the task at hand is what's called for.  Someone who can match him stroke for stroke.  Someone who, I believe, would have a very personal stake in facing Mousse."

            And at that moment, Shampoo knew who she was talking about.


	13. Part XII

            Mousse was having a wonderful dream in which he was killing Cologne with a bag of instant ramen when someone touched him.  He was only half awake when he saw Mori leaning over him, standing perfectly still to avoid getting cut by the knife held to his throat.  Mousse blinked owlishly at him and then at the blade in his hand before making it disappear.  "Sorry about that, Mori," he yawned.

            "That is quite alright, sir," Mori replied, unfazed.  "Shall I prepare your breakfast?  You have been asleep for quite a while."

            "Really?  How long?"  He sat up on the bed and stretched languidly, arms up over his head.  He felt weak, but more rested than he had in months.  He threw his legs over the edge and made his way to the bathroom.

            "About three days, sir."

            "And you let me sleep for so long?"

            "But you looked so peaceful."

            Mousse wondered if Mori had actually cracked a joke when he got a good look at himself in the mirror.  He was still pale, though not as much as before, and his bones and muscles still stood out in ghastly relief.  His hair had faded to the color of an overcast sky, with cloudy patches of light and dark gray running through it.  It looked cleaner with the black flecks gone, but he still didn't like it.

            "I'll have my breakfast now," he said, still examining his new look.  Even his eyebrows had changed color.  "Tell the chef to make me something more filling this time around.  Something western."

            "Will that be all, sir?" asked Mori.

            "Schedule me an appointment with a hairdresser," said Mousse, now running a brush through his hair.  "I don't like this color."

            "Very well, sir.  One more thing, however."

            Mousse turned from his preening.  Mori was holding out a picture to him.  "Yohei took a picture of this man leaving the Tendo residence.  I thought you might find it interesting."

            The man in the photo didn't look special.  Handsome, mid-twenties perhaps, glasses, caught in the act of lighting a cigarette.  He wore a long black coat reaching down almost to his calves.  Mousse frowned.  He didn't look like anyone he knew.  Certainly not a member of his family, though he had the look.  Then again, the whole 'desperado in the black trench coat' look was popular among certain circles these days, especially among those who had no business wearing them.  But the more he looked at the photo, the feeling that he somehow knew this man became stronger.  He remembered hearing rumors when he was younger about family members that left the fold and wandered the world on their own.  He flicked his wrist contemptuously and the photo disappeared.  It wasn't anyone he knew.  Besides, there was no way the man in the photo was one of the rumored renegade brothers.  A brother would not have allowed any pictures to be taken of him without his notice.  

            "It's not anyone I know, but reward Yohei for a job well done anyway."

            Mori bowed slightly.  "Very well, sir."

            Mousse was still staring at the mirror as Mori left.  Three days.  For three days he had been unconscious.  Three days was a long time.  His thoughts turned to his old mentor, Yeosol, the brother who at the same time was not a brother, who had taught him so much and would probably rebuke him if he were there right now for letting his chance slip.  Mousse's body ached with the memory; Yeosol's rebukes were always sharp and every one of his scars had a story to tell.  Of course, he could never be as utterly cold as his mentor.  He wouldn't hesitate in laying down his life to kill those who had wronged him, but only if it was his last alternative.  He still wanted to be alive when justice was dispensed.  Not that any of that mattered at the moment.  Yeosol was not here, and if Cologne fled, he would follow.  Justice was slow in coming, but it would come.  In the meantime, he would gather his strength in preparation for that moment.  

He stripped down and stepped into the shower.  He turned on the cold water and closed his eyes as it washed over him.  These periods of rest were usually tedious, but this time there was the matter of a certain girl he promised to take to dinner one fine evening.  She might be a little apprehensive about associating with someone who only three days ago kidnapped her sister, but that was to be expected.  He smiled.  It never hurt to try.

***

            It took three days for the letter to arrive, and Cologne was in a foul mood over it.

            "Arrogant half-male bastard!" she growled, crumpling up the fine paper in her hands.  _Not wanting to dredge up old wounds indeed.  That damn lizard prince would probably enjoy watching us get wiped out of existence.  _Herb, the last surviving member of the royal Musk dynasty family, had politely refused her request for help.  Yes, he was aware that Mousse was the son of the man who had killed the Dragon King, his father, but the War was long over.  But the boy's father himself had died in his assault on the Dragon King during the Battle of the Burning Glade, so there was no desire for any sort of retribution.  Besides, this was an internal matter for the Amazon people and he had no right to intervene on anyone's behalf.

            She made a disgusted sound and tossed the note aside.  There was a second letter in the envelope, this time from the twins themselves.  She skimmed over the writing quickly at first, and then backtracked to read it more thoroughly.  When she was finished, she leaned back on her staff.  She was surprised, a little at the twin's luck and foresight, but mostly at what they were bringing with them.  They had found a peddler selling various powdered essences of the Jusenkyou Springs that had dried up after the Phoenix Mountain debacle.  The twins had picked out the most harmless creature they could find out of the packets.  It was a duck.

            Cologne shuddered.  _Bad karma.  But for whom?_

            "Is everything alright, Great-Grandmother?" said Shampoo from behind her.  She was peering over her shoulder, trying to get a good look at the letter.

            Cologne swiftly tucked the letter into a sleeve.  "Yes child, everything is well.  Just word from Lin-lin and Lan-lan.  They're home, helping to prepare defenses."  It wasn't that Cologne suspected her granddaughter, but Shampoo had been acting strangely over the past few days.  Ever since she came back that night from following Mousse.  Got lost indeed.  Cologne was certain she was hiding something, but she wasn't going to press the issue.  As much as she wanted to kill the boy, she wasn't willing to sacrifice her granddaughter's trust to reach that end.  As a future Matriarch, Shampoo will be vital in rebuilding the shattered village.  It would be best to keep her in the dark about what was done to the boy until he has been dealt with.  If she ever found out she'd most likely try something foolish, like try to calm the boy down before he destroyed them all.  She wasn't stupid, just far too sentimental for her own good.

            A relieved look passed over Shampoo's face.  "That's good.  It's far too dangerous here."  The relieved look turned troubled.  "And what about the other letter?  Is Herb…?"  She let the question hang in the air, half hopeful, half afraid.

            "Prince Herb will not be coming to our aid," Cologne replied.  "Apparently he has little taste for others' 'internal' disputes."  She grimaced at Shampoo as once again relief washed over her face.  She put up an admirable effort to keep it from showing, but it was there.  "Now go on, I have other things to do."

            Shampoo bowed slightly and made her way to the back of the closed restaurant.  She had a spring in her step that hadn't been there before.  Cologne sighed.  She couldn't understand it.  Shampoo and Mousse had been good friends long ago, but when he started getting a little too zealous of their friendship she couldn't stand him.  And now she wants him to remember her now that he's a psychotic murderer?  She bowed her head and put her fingers to her temples.  The beginnings of a headache had started to form just thinking about it.  It was going to be a long wait for Lin-lin and Lan-lan to get back.

***

            The Tendo household was abnormally quiet with Ranma still unconscious, but Nabiki was far from idle.  From the information she had been able to gather, whatever vendetta Mousse and the Amazons had with each other was quickly involving just about every martial artist in Nerima.  Ukyo was on the warpath, going so far as to close down her restaurant in order to train for the next time she should meet Mousse.  Needless to say, Konatsu was preparing alongside his mistress.  Kuno had recovered and was still as arrogant as ever, vowing to smite the tricksome cur the next he should meet him, and his sister was after Mousse for harming her dear Ranma darling.  Even Nabiki's own father was training along with Genma.  For protection, they said, since Ranma is out of commission.  The only ones missing were Ryoga and Happosai, but they'd come about eventually.

            Nabiki scowled and set aside the thick book she had been poring over for the past two hours.  It was a study on Chinese Amazon culture and society, but as fascinating as it was, it was not the sort of information she needed.  She needed first-hand knowledge, not rumors or dry dissertations.  The only bit of information she had that might actually be useful she got from Ukyo, and it just raised more questions without answering any.  Apparently Mousse and the good doctor Tofu are family.  Which was funny, since she couldn't exactly see the resemblance.  She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully.  Unless family meant something else?  She heard organized crime syndicates in America often referred to themselves as 'family.'  It was hard for her to imagine Tofu mixed up with something like that.  Every time she tried to see him as some sort of criminal or hitman, her mind kept coming up with an image of the gentle, humorous young doctor she had known since she was a child.

            She sighed heavily and rolled over on her back.  She stared at the ceiling tiles.  Above her, Akane was tending the unconscious Ranma.  There was absolute amazement when she came back and plenty of questions for her, how did you escape, did he hurt you, are you all right, but she had her mind set on Ranma.  She had missed school and had all her meals brought to her so she could stay by his side.  She even slept beside him.  _All this because someone put Ranma into a coma, she mused.  __Amazing.  Then again, perhaps it wasn't so amazing.  With Ranma, life in Nerima followed a pattern.  There was a method to the madness, now that she thought about it, and it never changed.  Ukyo, Shampoo, and Kodachi would chase him, Akane would mallet him, Kuno and Ryoga would try to kill him, and he would turn into a girl or back into a boy at the most inopportune times.  He would fight and he would win.  It was an oversimplification of the pattern, but it was true.  And now someone had broken the pattern by not only beating him, but almost killing him.  Everyone was affected by it, as can be seen by their reactions.  Even Kasumi, the mildest person in Japan, perhaps even the entire world, seemed troubled lately._

            _All because of you, Mousse, she thought to herself.  __You've already disrupted the natural order of things.  So what now?  She was vaguely aware of the phone ringing as she mulled over these thoughts._

            "Nabiki," Kasumi called.  "It's for you."

            Nabiki took the phone from Kasumi, noting the strange expression on her face.  "Hello?" she said into the receiver.

            "Hello, Nabiki," replied a voice from the other end.

            Nabiki froze for a split second, before turning to Kasumi with her hand placed over the receiver.  "Could you excuse me, Kasumi?  I need to take this."

            Nabiki waited for a moment for her sister to leave and turned back to the phone.  "Mousse?" she whispered.  She was annoyed to realize her heartbeat had quickened, whether from fear or something else.

            "That's my name," came a cheerful reply.  She could hear the grin on his face.

            "What are you doing?" she whispered fiercely, sweeping her eyes around the house to be sure no one was listening.  She didn't even want to think how her family would react if they found out who she was talking to.

            "Well I seem to remember a time when I asked a very lovely girl out to dinner one night.  As it turned out, I wasn't able to take her out at the appointed time, so now I want to make it up to her.  The offer still stands, that is, if she still wants it…"

            Nabiki stood there in stark disbelief.  _What the hell is wrong with this guy?  Is he crazy?  She quickly regained her composure.  __This could be a chance to gather information.  "Yes," she answered carefully.  "She would love to go to dinner with you."_

            "Excellent!  Tonight?"

            "Sure," she answered after a moment of thought.  She could probably make an excuse to her father.  "Where are we going?"

            Nabiki could almost see his grin grow wider.  "To Bed."

***

            The limousine pulled up in front of a dark, nondescript building and the driver opened the car door for Nabiki to step out.  A line of young people stood in front of the entrance, well dressed and many looking bored or impatient.  An equally well dressed bouncer stood off to the side, monitoring the crowd, while another one by the door checked off names and let people through.  Nabiki caught flashes of a dimly lit interior and bits of music as the door opened and closed.  Written in neon wires directly above the entrance was '_Bed_.'  Bed was a chain of trendy restaurants that started in Europe about a year ago, and spread from there.  They usually catered to wealthy young men and women, though none were as young as her.  She always knew, (not hoped, knew) she would be going to restaurants just like these sooner or later, but wouldn't have believed it would be this soon.

            The bouncer by the door, seeing her step out of the limo, walked over quickly to greet her.  "Miss Tendo?"

            "Yes?" she replied, questioning.

            The relief was visible on his face.  "If you would follow me," he said, turning back.  He seemed anxious to get her inside.  Nabiki smiled.  It seems Mousse had a word with this one.

            Nabiki ignored the stares, some disbelieving and some baleful, she got from the line as she was led past them into the restaurant.  She followed the bouncer down a wide aisle through the regular dining area where people ate at tables and through a door in the back.  The aisle became more and more dim the farther she went along, the only source of light coming from softly glowing spheres suspended far above them.  To either side people lounged in booths.  But instead of tables, the booths had circular beds with flat, hard areas set in the center for dining.  Almost all of the booths were filled, as many of them filled with people eating and talking as there were with people actually sleeping.

            The bouncer led her farther and farther back into restaurant until stopping at a door, which Nabiki assumed to be the end.  He opened the door with one hand and stepped to the side, beckoning her to go in.

            Nabiki's breath caught as she stepped into the room.  The room was small, meant for private meetings, but lavishly adorned in an Arabic style.  Intricate geometric patterns in soft blues and greens covered the walls, which were set with arches that reached up to a domed roof.  The sound of running water drew her awed gaze to the side, where a small stream flowed from an outlet set in the wall.  She watched as dishes laden with food began drifting out of the hole, until stopping in the center of the room where they floated serenely in a pool.  The pool was surrounded by plush, jewel-colored pillows, and sleeping on the pillows was her date.

             Mousse lay on his back, hands tucked behind his head, and didn't awaken as Nabiki crept closer.  She could see from his gaunt face that he was much thinner than the last time she saw him, as though he were sick for a long time.  His breathing was deep and even, however, so she didn't think he was weak.  She made to wake him up when she saw something that made her eyes widen.  He had a strip of black silk tied around his throat, but it was loose, revealing a hideous scar.  She hadn't seen this before, even during that moment in the bathroom, and it made her wonder what could have done that to him.  It was as though he had been hung and instead of killing him, it left him with a scar.  Before she could stop herself, she was reaching out with one hand to pull the cloth down further to see the rest of the scar.  She was barely touching the silk when a slender hand came up and gently grasped hers around the wrist.

            She didn't jump back, reflexively jerking her hand away, but looked down on Mousse's smiling face.  "Hello, Nabiki."

***

            Mousse had only meant to relax while waiting for his date to arrive, but sleep had stealthily crept up on him and robbed him of consciousness.  It was the smell of perfume that woke him up, and he opened his eyes to see Nabiki reaching over to his throat.  He suppressed his initial reaction, which was to knock her away violently and put as much distance between his throat and her, and instead gently stopped her before she could see the rest of his scar.  He even managed to smile. 

He released her hand and sat up, readjusting the strip of black silk he had tied around his throat until his scar was no longer visible before turning around to face her.  She stood there silently, coolly appraising him.  He gestured for her to relax and sit down.  She did, moving to the side of the pool opposite from him and lay on her side on a large crimson pillow.  

They studied each other silently for a moment.  Mousse took in her appearance with a slight smile.  She wore a form-fitting dress with a dark red rose pattern, cut so that it left her arms bare and left slits down both sides of the dress, revealing a pair of long, shapely legs.  He felt himself being studied in a similar way by her, but it didn't bother him.  If anything, it made things more interesting.  

Nabiki spoke first.  "You're looking well, Mousse," she said, taking a pair of exceedingly long porcelain chopsticks from a nearby floating tray.  She reached out and delicately plucked a piece of sushi from another tray.  "Better than I'd expect from someone who looked like they caught on fire and came away looking like a pile of ashes.  Nice job with the hair dye by the way."

Mousse started, and then his grin grew wider.  This was going to be fun.  "Well I was always resilient.  How did you know I colored my hair?"

Nabiki picked up a cup filled with a dark red liquid from another tray and took a sip.  "I guessed.  Is this wine?"

He laughed.  "A chardonnay, I think."

"I see," she said, putting the cup back.  She grinned impishly at him.  "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Am I so transparent?" he asked, half joking.  "I can get you something else if you want."

"Don't trouble yourself.  I'm not very thirsty anyway," she said.  She leaned forward slightly.  "Before we start, can we get our business out of the way so we can enjoy ourselves?"

Mousse blinked, making a good show of looking startled.  "Business?  The only reason I invited you here was to enjoy each others' company."

She gave him a flat look.  "Come on, Mousse.  I know you want information from me, and it would be so much easier if I just told you rather than both of us playing word games with each other."

He looked at her a moment before laughing.  "You saw right through me.  I guess it would be kind of awkward not talking directly about the issue at hand.  Kind of like the elephant in the living room that nobody mentions." 

They both laughed at that, and Mousse asked, "So what do I have to do for this information?"

"How about this," Nabiki said.  "I ask a question and then you ask a question.  That way we both get what we want."

He grinned.  "_Quid pro quo_.  Sounds good to me.  After you."

"Thank you," Nabiki said.  "Why do you want to kill Cologne and Shampoo?"

_Right off the bat.  She probably has a list of questions planned out._  He waited, appearing to think carefully about his answer.  "Cologne killed my parents and tried to kill me.  Shampoo is just the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Are you angry with me?" 

Nabiki looked taken aback, whether with the casual abruptness of his answer or with his question, he couldn't tell.  "Why would I be angry with you?"

"I did kidnap your sister and almost killed her fiancé.  Most people would at least be a little upset with me."

Nabiki shrugged.  "I know, but it happens so often.  And unlike the others, you did give her back, so Ranma won't have to rescue her.  Not that he's in any shape to do anything like that now."

Now it was Mousse's turn to be taken aback.  "So this happens often?"

She smiled.  "With alarming frequency.  Where did you get that scar?"

The slight smile he wore faded as he brought his hand up to his throat.  "A little something the Amazons gave me as a reminder of the time we spent together."

Her smile faded along with his.  "What did they do to you?" she asked quietly.

His expression brightened suddenly.  "I think it's my turn to ask a question now," he said.  "Now, what can you tell me about Ranma?"

She looked as though she was going to press her question, then just sighed.  "Where to start?"

He leaned forward, eager for a good story.  "From the beginning.  I'm not going anywhere."

"If you say so.  It all started when Ranma came to live with us last year…"

***

            Tofu watched from the top of the apartment as Nabiki walked into the restaurant.  To meet her date for the night, who, judging from his past actions, might be utterly charming or leave her gutted corpse nailed to the ceiling depending on his mood.  Then again, she wasn't an Amazon, so he didn't think he needed to worry.  But he still wondered if she knew what she was getting into.

            He stepped off the edge of the roof and dropped silently to the ground.  Following that man with the camera was too easy, and led him to where his quarry was hiding.  It was so easy he almost thought it was a trap, but this opportunity was simply too good to pass up.  He lit a cigarette as he strolled down the sidewalk, toward where his quarry had made his residence.  He knew he should not have started smoking again, but it seemed as though he had never stopped.  Recent experience taught him that old habits are never really dropped; they just submerge themselves and wait for the right time to come back up.

            He paused on the sidewalk to take one last drag on the cigarette before tossing the butt away.  He exhaled the smoke in a heavy sigh.  He always turned philosophical when he smoked.  He shrugged.  "_C'est la vie_," he said, and continued on his way to his quarry's, his brother's, lair.  It was time to end this.

***

            Four hours and a fine bottle of chardonnay later found Mousse and Nabiki doubled over laughing at her stories of Ranma.  "So his dad actually ties fish sausage on him and drops him into a pit full of stray cats?" asked Mousse, managing a question between fits of laughter.

            "Yeah," Nabiki said, wiping a tear from her eye.  "So now he's totally afraid of cats.  The thing is he turns into a cat in his mind when the fear overwhelms him.  But I guess you found that out already."

            "I sure did."  He smiled ruefully.  "If I'd known he'd turn into a cat I wouldn't have told him to 'play with the kitty.'"

            They both looked at each other for a moment before again collapsing into fits of laughter.  They knew that shouldn't have been funny, both Ranma and Mousse almost died in that fight, but they couldn't stop laughing.  "So what about Nodoka?  She seems pretty normal."

            Nabiki accidentally put down the wine flute in the water, but that was the farthest thing from her mind.  "Okay, get this," she said, gesturing with her hands for emphasis.  "When Ranma was still a baby, like one or two, Genma took him away on a training trip until he was sixteen.  He promised Nodoka that Ranma would come back as a 'man among men' or," she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "they would both commit _seppuku_."  Then she fell back on the pillows, laughing.

            Mousse was grinning in anticipation of yet another Ranma brand hijinks courtesy of his father.  It seemed as though all of Ranma's dilemmas stemmed in one way or another from his old man, usually resulting in hilarious consequences for them both; he couldn't help thinking that someone should make a TV show based on their life.  But as soon as he heard about Ranma being taken from his mother, the grin began to slip.  He reclined back against the pillows, a shadow over his face.

            Nabiki noticed this change in demeanor immediately, even with the warm haze of alcohol clouding her mind.  "What's wrong?" she asked, genuinely worried for him.  And for herself as well.  He had been a perfect gentleman the entire evening, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow… unstable.

            There was no reply from him for a moment.  "I think it's wrong for any child to be taken away from his mother," he finally answered, not looking at her but at the tiny stream before them with melancholy look on his face.

            Realization sobered her quickly.  "I'm sorry Mousse, I shouldn't have said that," she said, remembering what he said about the Amazons killing his parents.  Judging from his reaction, Ranma's situation with his mother must be at least somewhat similar to his own.  She filed that bit of information away in her mind.

            He shrugged.  "You have no reason to be sorry.  It happened, and nothing can change that," he said softly.  His expression hardened.  "But that doesn't mean I can't do anything about it."

            Nabiki looked at him sadly.  She had always been a skeptic, always taking everyone's story with a grain of salt.  However, with Mousse she knew he was telling the truth.  He was certainly hiding something, maybe a lot of somethings; the ambiguous answers he gave her were enough proof of that.  But she knew too well what it was like to lose a parent, and she couldn't imagine what she would do if someone had killed both her mother and father and then tried to kill her.  Probably something like what Mousse had been doing.  And that scar around his neck, who knew what they did to him?  Nabiki decided to steer the course of this evening away from its current direction.

            "Come on, let's go," she said, standing up suddenly.  She immediately swooned, however, and would have fallen forward if Mousse had not suddenly appeared, holding her arms to steady her.  She looked up at him with some amazement.  She hadn't even seen him move.

            "You drank a little too much," he said, concern tingeing his voice.  "I should take you home."

            And suddenly she realized how close she was to him, close enough to feel warmth from his body.  She flushed suddenly, and it grew deeper when she saw that his face had turned red, whether from the alcohol or something else.  _He has such beautiful eyes… What am I doing?_  She berated herself mentally.  _I'm worse than Akane._

"Um, we're standing in the water," he said quietly.  Nabiki looked up at him in surprise and then down at her feet.  Indeed, they were both standing ankle deep in the small pool.  They looked at each other and broke out into laughter, even if it was a little subdued.  Although the tension was broken, neither of them could deny what happened, or what almost happened.

            She moved around to his side and hooked an arm in his.  "Let's go to your place."

            "What?" he asked as she pulled him toward the door.

            "I want to go to your place."  She grinned as he turned red in the face again.  Come one."

            "Nabiki… I… this is kind of fast, being the first…" he choked as she continued dragging him out of the pool and to the door.

            She pulled up in front of him.  "I thought you knew better than that, Mousse-baby. I don't know what _you're_ thinking but I'm just not that kind of girl," she said sternly, and laughed at his wide-eyed, stammered apologies.  She patted him on the cheek.  "Don't worry about it, Mousse-baby.  I just want to see where you live, that's all."

            He looked confused at first, and then resigned, as she started to pull him again, encouraging him the entire way.


	14. Part XIII

            A low scraping sound filled the room as Tofu prepared the knife for the coming battle, running the blade over and over again on the whetstone.  Satisfied with its sharpness, he turned it over looking for cracks.  He caught his reflection in the blade and it held him.  _How quickly the past catches up with us_, he thought.  _How quickly it ages us._  He put the whetstone away and began the next step of preparation.  

He reached into his belt and pulled out the vial.  It was filled with an oily substance the color of old paper.  He removed the stopper and pulled out a swab, dipping it into the vial and pulling it out.  A faint scent almost like pine oil wafted up from the poison as he applied it to the blade with all the care and precision of his craft.  It was potent stuff, more than enough to kill an ordinary adult male, but it would probably just slow Mousse down.  That is, if he's fully recovered from the Red.  If not, it could be that the long hunt will be over with a mere scratch of the blade.

Tofu sheathed the knife and looked up at the old man seated across from him.  He was a professional, the old one.  He retained his silence and his composure the entire time, looking surprised only once when Tofu came up from behind with the knife.  Even now, the old man gazed fixedly at him, his face an expressionless mask.  There was no need for words.

The phone rang once, twice before the old man picked it up.  He brought it up to his ear, listening for a moment before responding.

"Good even...  Quite all right, sir…  Very well, sir."  He had barely put the phone down when Tofu was behind him, pressing the point on the back of his neck that would render him unconscious.  He slumped forward, head hanging as though he had fallen asleep.

Tofu put on his coat and shouldered the duffel pack he had set on the floor.  He stepped out onto the balcony, lighting a cigarette and taking one long drag before tossing it to the street below.  It was show time.

***

            "You live at The Imperial?" Nabiki asked, genuinely impressed.  The Imperial was usually reserved for celebrities, business tycoons, or government elite.  "Not bad for a country bumpkin from China."

            Mousse shrugged.  "They give me a good price."

            She raised her eyebrows.  "Is that so?"

            He shrugged again and smiled at her questioning look.  "My adopted family has many resources at its disposal.  I like to use them.  Shall we go in?"

            He offered his arm to her and she took it with a smile.  He got over his nervousness on the drive over, where she continued to tell him stories about who she called 'the Nerima Wrecking Crew,' a very apt name from what he'd seen.  Nothing was going to happen, he had told himself over and over again like a mantra.  She was going to come up, they were going to talk some more, and then she would go home.  Nothing was going to happen.  Nothing at all.  Oh, how his brothers and sisters would laugh if they could see him.

            "Excuse me," Mousse said as they passed by the manager's desk.  He gently removed his arm from hers.

            "Is something wrong?" Nabiki asked.

            "It's nothing, just a security precaution," he said as he walked to the desk and rang the service bell.  The manager, a slender, older woman with graying hair, came out of the office door.  She saw Mousse and bowed formally.

            "Good evening to you, Mr. Sun," she said.  "How may I help you?"

            "Good evening, Mrs. Koto," he answered.  "I need to use the telephone."

            The manager nodded and reached under the counter, pulling up an elaborately worked, silver-chased phone.  She pushed something under the counter and handed him the receiver.  He nodded to thanks and held it to his ear.  On the second ring, Mori picked up.

            "Good even."

            Mousse swore under his breath.  An intruder.  "Good even.  How are you feeling, Mori?" he asked.

            "Quite all right, sir."  Inside, possibly armed.

            "Could you draw a bath for me?"

            "Very well sir."

            Mousse hung up.  "Thank you, Mrs. Koto," he said, pushing the phone across the counter.  "Could you call my limo back around?"  The date would have to be cut short.

            "Mousse, what's wrong?" asked Nabiki from behind him.

            He turned around and sighed.  She looked at him coolly under half-lidded eyes, but he could sense the worry in her voice.  She was already suspicious.  There was no point in lying to her.

            "I'm afraid I have some business to take care of upstairs," he said apologetically.  "You should probably go home."

            She didn't budge.  "Business.  Right."

             "Nabiki, I'm serious, this is something I-"

            "I think I have a pretty good idea what kind of business you're talking about," she said in a tone that made him wince.  If she was still fuzzy from the alcohol, she wasn't showing it.  She stepped forward until she was so close she had to tilt her head up to see his face.  "And I know it's serious.  But you don't have to deal with it now."

            He looked down at her curiously.  He supposed if his head didn't feel like a balloon he would have caught on immediately.  "What do you mean?"

            "Come with me," she said.  Her expression softened.  "Whoever's upstairs can wait, just come to my place.  It's safe there, I promise."

            That last part sounded dangerously close to a plea.  "Nabiki, I don't have a choice," he answered gently.  "I can't-"

            "You can't let anyone stop you," she finished for him coldly.  She turned away from him and crossed her arms.

"Nabiki, I-"

"I think I will go home," she said, still cold.  She turned her head slightly.  "Try not to get yourself killed."

Mousse could only watch helplessly while she walked out the door.  He felt the sudden urge to call her back and tell her he would wait, but common sense held him back.  He had to rescue Mori and Lucifer.  And it's better this way with her out of danger.  He looked to the side to see the hotel manager staring at him with stern disapproval all over her face.  He bit back the urge to sneer at her.  Instead he clenched his teeth and walked stiffly outside.

_What the hell did she know?_  He thought to himself.  _This is my duty._  He had trouble deciding whom he was thinking about.

He found her outside, waiting for her ride home.  She turned to see him and her face tightened.  She lifted her nose slightly in a way that almost seemed snobbish and then turned back.  He walked past her into the street without even a glance.  He didn't acknowledge the limo coming around the corner, or its blaring horn when it had to screech to a halt to avoid him.  He stared straight ahead until he came to the office building directly across the hotel, a huge stretched cube made of glass, steel, and cement placed on end.  

The building was locked up for the night and empty, except for a few security guards on each floor.  One was happening to walk by doing his rounds.  He knocked on the glass to get the guard's attention.  He came immediately and unlocked the door.  Mousse walked through the open door, pulling a ten thousand yen note and pressing it into the man's hand as he passed.  The guard bowed his head and waited for Mousse to disappear in the elevator before calling the other guards on his radio.  Mr. Sun was on business now and he would greatly appreciate his privacy.

***

Nabiki looked calm on the surface, but she seethed underneath.  _That stupid…boy!  How could he do that to me!?  _She took a deep breath.  There was no use getting angry over something she couldn't control.  There was nothing she could have done to keep him from dealing with his 'business.'  In fact, it would be better if she simply cut her losses here and just forgot about him.  It was obvious he was going to get himself killed someday, and she didn't look good in a funeral dress.

She was distracted from her broodings at the sight of a group of security guards gathered at the door of the building across the street.  They talked for a while then left.  _What's this all about?  And why did he go there instead of up?_  She frowned, her curiosity piqued.  She shook her head.  _Don't even think about it._

The limo that chauffeured them pulled up in front of her.  The driver quickly got out and held the door open for her.  She made to get inside, but stopped for one last look at the building.  The urge to go in after him still tickled at the back of her mind.  She let out her breath in a huff.  _He's just a stupid boy that I barely even know.  Why should I worry about him?_

She angrily huffed again and stepped out of the limo just as the chauffeur was closing it.  "Wait here until I get back," she said, and left running as fast as she could in her high heels before he could object.  There was still time to catch up with the idiot and make him see reason.  She ended up tearing the pegs off her high heels halfway partly in frustration at Mousse and partly at how they slowed her down.  It almost hurt ruining such a stylish and expensive pair of shoes.  She made a mental note to extort more money out of Kuno the next time she got a chance.

When she came to the entrance she wrapped one hand around the handle and gave it an experimental tug.  She was half surprised when the door opened.  The guard had apparently forgotten to lock up after themselves.  The lobby was dark and completely empty.  She shivered slightly.  The only sound was the echo of her feet as she walked across the floor.  On the wall there was mounted a stone engraving of a mountain with a sunset behind it.  Below it was the name _FLCL Co. Ltd._.  She wondered what it was exactly that _FLCL Co. Ltd. _did.

Straight ahead were three elevators, one of which was being used.  She watched as the arrow registering the floor moved along the semicircle to the right.  It didn't stop until it reached the very end.  The roof.  She moved over to the next elevator and pressed the button.  She thought she had a pretty good idea what he wanted on the roof.  Assuming his room was facing the street, he should be able to get a good view of it from the roof of this building.  She amended her opinion of him as the elevator door opened.  He wasn't stupid.  He was just stubborn and suicidal.

***

Mousse pressed himself to the side as the elevator door opened.  After a moment he came out, quickly and low to ground in almost a crouch.  A light attached to the side of the elevator shed cast an orange glare across the roof.  He came to the edge of the building and peered over the side.  The light was on in his room, a floor below him, but he couldn't make out anything beyond a blur.  He cursed to himself and pulled a pair of glasses out of his sleeve.  He wished he had taken the time to put on a pair of contacts.  There were times when he couldn't wait to get corrective surgery done on his eyes.  His sight was perhaps the closest thing he had to a liability.  He squinted as the world took on a sharper cast and swore again at what he saw.

Mori was in one of the chairs, slumped over and head hanging over his chest.  Mori would never be caught sleeping on the job.  Mousse pulled out a pair of binoculars and trained them on Mori's still form, fearing the worst.  He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he let it out in a relieved sigh.  Mori was still alive, his chest and stomach moving gently with each breath.  

Mousse didn't know what warned him.  It could have been a slight shift in the air.  It could have been a sound so soft that it only registered subconsciously.  It could even have been the proverbial sixth sense.  He didn't know what it was but all the warning bells went off his head and he was twisting to the side, a flash of black filling his vision and a searing line of pain in his side.  He hooked the arm that had stabbed at him in his own and placed his hand over the knife handle, turning it back on its owner.  The hand immediately dropped it and came up, binding the arm that held it and coming around to lock it behind Mousse's back.  By this time a revolver was already in Mousse's free hand.  He fired twice into his assailant's body and the man flew back.  

Mousse stood, wincing at the pain in his side, and turned around to get a better look at his assailant.  The man was lucky to get so close if nothing else, though it was puzzling why he didn't use a gun instead of a knife.  A young one perhaps, wanting to make a name for himself by killing his mark up close.  Too bad his career was cut so tragically short.

But to Mousse's surprise his assailant stood back less than a dozen feet away, staring at him with hard, flat eyes behind a pair of spectacles.  It took him a moment to recognize that it was the man in the photo Mori had showed him earlier.  His mouth turned up into a cold smile.  _Well, well. What do we have here?_  Mousse blinked and then his mouth twisted with distaste.  Even under the harsh orange glare he could see the man's torso and limbs bulged unnaturally under his black duster.  Body armor.

"Body armor is for pussies, friend," he said as casually as if he was discussing the weather.  The revolver disappeared with a flick of his wrist, to be replaced with a knife whose curved blade was a full foot in length.  He didn't want to kill the man, at least not before he was interrogated.  He already had his suspicions; it wouldn't be the first time some government or other had acted against his family and he wouldn't put it past Cologne to have hired some assassin to do her dirty work.  But it never hurt to make absolutely sure.  He pulled at the collar of his shirt.  It was suddenly very hot.  

If the man was afraid he gave no sign.    Mousse's respect for his would be killer went up a notch.  Most people tended to overreact when faced with their own demise.  Mousse blinked as sweat began to trickle into his eyes and pulled the strip of silk from his throat.  It felt as though the thin cloth was tightening, cutting off his breathing.  He drew in a deep breath and struggled to focus on the man in front of him.  He squinted as the man alternated between clarity and a dark stain against an orange light.

"Bastard," Mousse slurred as he fell back a step.  The floating sensation in his head made it hard to keep his balance.  He tightened his grip on the knife so he wouldn't drop it.  By this time he knew the heat had nothing to do with the weather.

The stranger rushed forward, bringing his foot up in a sharp kick that knocked the knife from Mousse's hand.  He spun, swinging his other foot in a wide arc at Mousse's head.  But Mousse was already in a crouch and leaped up as the leg passed overhead, catching it and lifting the stranger off his feet before slamming him to the ground.  His head hit the ground with a sharp crack.

Mousse took advantage of the stranger's disorientation by grabbing at his duster and pulling himself up until he was eye to eye with him.  He forced his forearm under the man's chin and pressed down.  The man made a choking sound as his breath was cut off.  Another knife appeared in Mousse's other hand, shorter than the previous one, with a triangle shaped blade tapering to a wicked point.  Still, the man had some fight in him.  Hands came up either side of Mousse's face, thumbs probing for his eyes and a knee came up seeking his crotch.

Mousse shook his head free of the hands, losing his glasses in the process, and at the same time moving his leg to intercept the knee.  He grit his teeth and pressed down harder, raising his knife for the killing blow through the eye.  Just as the knife was coming down, the man raised a hand to block it, getting a long gash down his palm as he attempted to wrestle it from Mousse's grasp.  The man cried out as Mousse ripped the knife away, leaving a deeper cut in the obstructing hand and prepared to stab again.  The man's other hand came up, not to block, but striking sharply with stiffened fingers at Mousse's neck.  Pain ripped through Mousse's body as the hand hit a nerve.  Spots danced in his already blurred vision.  He felt the knife drop from suddenly nerveless fingers as the man threw him off to the side.

Mousse scrambled to his feet, but only got halfway up before the man planted a running kick into his side.  He flew back into the elevator shed and fell in a heap.   He sucked in deep, gasping breaths as he forced himself up using the wall as support, blinking away the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him.  Deep in his brain, under the pain and the poison, one clear thought kept repeating itself over and over again.

_You are going to die._

He laughed, but it came out more as a choking cough.  He always knew he would die in some unnatural way, maybe burning out on the Red or under the cold gaze of an Elder, but he never quite ever saw himself getting iced by some hired gun.  The very thought would have made him laugh a short while ago.  It wasn't as amusing now that it was actually happening, but it was still damn funny.

_You are going to die._

He would have laughed again if the man weren't in front of him again, pressing a knife to his throat.  So he grinned instead at his eminent doom.  However, a part of him simply would not accept it.  It screamed at him, almost drowning out the _'You are going to die.'_ track that replayed over and over again in his head.

            _Do something!  Use a weapon, a gun, a knife, a fucking spatula, anything!_

_            No good.  Can't concentrate.  Why would I use a spatula?_

_            Then use a chi blast!  This is not the time to be picky!_

_            Don't like using chi.  Can't concentrate anyway.  Poison.  Never liked that band._

            "What's so funny?" the man asked softly, increasing the pressure behind the blade.  Something flickered in his eyes.  It looked like fear.

            His grin grew wider, exposing all his teeth.  "You.  Me.  Us."

            The man frowned slightly.  "You're insane."

             "It's the poison, buddy.  You remember, the poison you put in me?  It's messing with my chi."  His grin took on a more malicious look.  "If it wasn't for the poison, I'd have had you screaming for your mommy right about now."

            He never saw the man's arm move, but he felt the elbow as it smashed into the side of his face.  He almost fell but quickly righted himself when he felt the tip of the knife pressed under his chin.  He kept grinning, exposing blood-stained teeth.  "How's the hand?" he asked as though nothing had happened, eyes flicking down to his captor's wounded hand.  "Getting stiff?  I cut you pretty deep.  Better get that looked after pretty soon now if you want to keep using it."

            The knife pressed harder, enough to draw a trickle of blood.  "You are a monster," he said.

            "Shit."  He laughed as best he could with a knife to his neck.  "How does the saying go? The pot calling the kettle black?"  His bleary mind was working at a frantic pace, but he wasn't sure in what direction.  "It's obvious you know what I am, but what are you?"

            He could feel the man's grip on the knife tighten.  "I'm nothing like you."

            "Yeah, I'm not a self-righteous prick."

The man's face tightened.  "Big words for a little boy that's about to die."

            "You gonna ghost me now?"  He sneered.  "Come on then, ghost me you li-"

            The elevator door opened.  The man was distracted for a split second and Mousse saw his chance.  He didn't remember summoning the guns to his hands, he didn't think he could, but they were there and he was firing, alternating between hands and feeling vaguely like some cut-rate cowboy out of a spaghetti western.  He couldn't tell what kind of guns he was firing or where the bullets were going but that didn't keep him pulling the triggers.  At least some of the bullets must have found their mark, for the man staggered back, half in escape and half from the bullets, until he ran out of roof and disappeared over the edge.

            Mousse stumbled after the man as quickly as he could, new guns appearing in his hands to replace the spent ones.  He peered over the edge, wanting to see a black shape screaming towards the pavement but not expecting to.  Ten stories down, he caught a glimpse of black disappearing into an open window.  

            "Mousse?" came a voice from behind him.

            He whirled, guns raised, and then lowered them.  "Nabiki?" he whispered, and fell to one knee.  Sweat rolled down his face and fell to the ground.  His breath came in gasps.  Thirst clawed at the inside of his throat.  The darkness that he had managed to hold back during the fight once again began to encroach on his vision and almost swallowed him.  He fought it back and forced himself to his feet.  This small victory over unconsciousness was short-lived however, as almost immediately he felt himself begin to pitch forward.

***

            Nabiki didn't know what to expect when she stepped out of the elevator, but it was definitely not the sight of Mousse with a gun in each hand, firing away at a man until he fell off the roof.  She didn't remember speaking his name but he turned suddenly, guns raised and trained on her.  She took an involuntary step back at the sight of guns pointed in her direction, but lowered them when he saw her.  She saw his mouth moving in what she thought was her name and then he fell to one knee, head dropping to his chest.   He almost immediately came back to his feet, but began to fall forward again.  She ran without thinking and was there to catch him.  He was surprisingly light for his size.

            She tried to lay him down on the ground but he would have none of it.  He pushed her away roughly and staggered under his own weight, but somehow kept his feet.  He took a deep, shuddering breath and stood there, eyes closed.

            "You idiot!" Nabiki shouted, then took a deep breath herself.  She continued after finding much of her usual calm, though her hands trembled slightly.  She clenched them.  "You could have been killed.  Why couldn't you just listen to me?"

            She supposed a more compassionate woman would have asked if he was alright, but it was fairly obvious he didn't want her help, even now.  Looking at him now, she couldn't see what reason he could possibly find for coming up here.  He looked like he could barely stand, though the only visible wounds she could find were an ugly bruise on the side of his face and some blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth.  He looked more ill than hurt, like someone with a high fever.  Sweat rolled down his pale face, except for two spots of color high on his cheeks, and he shuddered occasionally.  When he opened his eyes he looked as though he could barely focus them, but he somehow managed to see her.

            "We have to leave.  Now."

            "What are you-" she began, but it turned into a surprised gasp when he came forward and literally swept her off her feet, one arm under her legs and the other under her back.  And then he turned and was running toward the edge of the roof.  She didn't have time to struggle before they ran out of roof and were suddenly sailing through the air.  Her stomach dropped to her feet and she screamed as they cleared the street below in a second that stretched itself to forever.  Then a sudden jarring sensation and stillness.  She didn't remember squeezing her eyes shut, but she had to force them open one at a time to see that she was on a very large balcony.  She put one leg down tentatively, as though to be sure the ground was solid, and then the other.

            Nabiki turned around, prepared to give him a slap and then a piece of her mind, but thought better of it when she saw that he was barely able to keep his balance.  She only watched as he stepped unsteadily out of the crater of ruined concrete his landing had created and walked into the room.  She followed him silently inside, where a gray-haired man she recognized as the man Mousse talked to after the fight with Ranma was sitting on a chair, apparently unconscious.  A black kitten that was napping in the man's lap awoke at Mousse's entrance and ran up to him.  He picked it up and then lifted the man off the chair and threw him over his shoulder.

            He turned to her and held out the kitten in one hand.  "Can you hold him for me?"

            She took the kitten away and held it close.  She didn't want to admit it to herself, but the presence of the little bundle of fur did help calm her.  "What happened back there, Mousse?" she asked following him as he walked to the door.  She guessed this was his room.  Under ordinary circumstances she would have stopped to admire it, but the circumstances were hardly ordinary.

            "Someone's after me," he said as he poked his head out the door and checked both sides before venturing out into the hall.  He motioned for her to follow him and she did so.

            "Are you sick?" she asked as he pressed the button for the elevator.  They waited for the few tense moments it took for the elevator doors to open.

            "Poison," he answered as the elevator doors closed behind them and they were going down.  He set the man's body down with a wince.

            "Poison!" she exclaimed, alarmed.

            "Don't worry, it won't kill me," he replied calmly.  "He cut me with a poisoned knife."

            "You're cut!" she exclaimed again.  She looked him over.  "Where?"

            The elevator came to a stop before he could answer.  A gun suddenly appeared in his hand and the doors opened, revealing a cleaning maid pulling a load of sheets behind her.  She stopped short and froze when she saw the gun.  For a long moment no one moved as Mousse stared at the maid and the maid stared at the gun.  Then he lifted the old man under one arm and tossed him on the laundry.  He also took the cat from Nabiki and set it beside the unconscious man.

            "Watch over him until he wakes up," he said.  The maid only nodded mutely, not taking her eyes from the gun as the elevator doors closed and they were once again going down.  

            "Was that really necessary?" Nabiki asked after Mousse made the gun disappear.  
            "Yes," he answered, leaning against the wall with a sigh and closing his eyes.

            The elevator shook slightly.  Nabiki barely noticed it, and if she had she would have dismissed it out of hand as just something old elevators do, but Mousse had a different reaction.  His eyes snapped open and he was moving, hitting the emergency stop.  The elevator jarred to a stop and Nabiki stumbled into his back.

            "What-" she began, but cut off when he grabbed her by the arm and pushed her toward the door.  He slammed his fist on the 'open' button.  The doors opened slowly and she saw that they were halfway past the opening onto the floor.

            "Out!" Mousse shouted, any sign that he was still weak from the poison disappearing.  The gun reappeared in his hand, which he now aimed at the ceiling.  Nabiki could now hear what sounded like movement above them.  "What are you waiting for, get out!"

            Nabiki decided now was not the best time to argue and climbed through the door, rolling the rest of the way out.  She turned back to see the door already closing on Mousse, feverish almost to the point of unconsciousness and still aiming his gun at the ceiling.  And on the roof, a black form crouched, a gun also in hand.  The man on the roof turned his head slowly to peer at what crawled out and Nabiki's breath caught as their eyes met.  Dr. Tofu, the lighthearted man who had been her family physician since as long as she could remember now stared at her with cold, dead eyes.  He was still staring at her when the doors finally closed.  The muffled roar of gunfire soon filled the air, receding as the elevator descended.

            Nabiki stood there for a moment longer in stark disbelief.  For some reason, she had never really believed what Ukyo had said about Dr. Tofu.  Now she could see why.  The thought that someone she had once known changing so radically was hard to accept, even in a place like Nerima.

            _Someone I _thought _I knew_, she corrected herself mentally, as she moved on to the next elevator and pressed the button.  The urge to drop it all and let Mousse look after himself came back, but she couldn't bring herself to leave him.  At the same time, she knew there was nothing she could do; she wasn't about to get between two deadly gunmen hellbent on killing each other.  But what could she do?  She was still debating with herself as she stepped on the elevator. 


	15. Part XIV

Author's Note:  Damn I'm a lazy bastich.  Don't worry though, I will finish this story.  New chapters will be shorter, but they should come in regularly every week or so.

            It took only half a minute to turn the roof of the elevator into so much bullet-riddled scrap.  Mousse dodged, spun, and weaved around the enclosed area, a pistol in each hand, firing while trying to avoid return fire from above.  It was apparent who had the advantage in firepower from the start.  An arsenal of spent guns and empty shells littered the floor of the elevator, enough to outfit a platoon of regular soldiers; or one practitioner of Hidden Weapons.  His opponent however, knew nothing of the secrets of Hidden Weapons and so had to make to without them.  And make do he did.  In the pitch darkness (the lights had been the first victim of their firefight) Mousse was certain that the man in black above him was dodging and spinning and weaving just as he was and without the clumsiness of nerves and muscles dulled by poison.

            Mousse's hands worked while he danced around the elevator, conjuring up guns, emptying them, dropping them, and then conjuring up more.  Even poisoned, he felt cold, detached, and machine-like, just as he was taught when in such a situation.  Well, perhaps not exactly this kind of situation; no one had ever tutored him in the fine intricacies of gunning in an elevator.  But no matter, because even through the haze of poison and battle rage, he knew he had the advantage, he had the firepower, he had nerves of steel and balls of pure fucking brass and no two-bit hack of a hitman was ever going to take him down.  And then he ran out.

            Mousse couldn't quite believe it when it happened.  He dropped the still-smoking shotgun and tried to summon another, but all he got was air.  When that didn't work he tried to summon a knife.  Nothing.  He tried to summon anything at all.  He got a nice little toaster oven.  Stark disbelief settled in.  Since escaping the Amazons, he had never, _ever_, been unarmed, not once in all the time since then.  Eating, sleeping, studying, training, playing, showering, it didn't matter.  He had a weapon with him at all times.  It was just the way things were, an immutable fact of nature, like gravity.  And now he had run out.  He suddenly felt naked.

            It was then he noticed that his assailant was no longer above him.  His ears rang with the sound of gunshots and he could faintly hear the wail of fire alarms, but nothing from above him.  He wasn't foolish enough to believe the man had died up there; he wouldn't believe the man dead unless he put a bullet in his head from half an inch away and sat by the corpse for a day or two.  He was definitely not an ordinary… whatever he was.  Not a run of the mill assassin, he was reasonably sure of that.  If he didn't know better, he would swear that he was fighting with someone who had gone through the _Agoge_.  A disturbing thought, but one for another time; it would be enough for now to get out alive.

He coughed.  The room was choked with powder smoke.  He waded through the sea of empty guns and shells littering the floor, and thought that perhaps his weapons dry spell was not so surprising; on the floor was what was left of a year of hunting down the Elders, a fraction of what he had started out with.  He simply never bothered to restock, believing that one room from the munitions depot would suffice.

_I got a little carried away.  _Then wryly:  _But maybe I could chuck this toaster at him._

The elevator had stopped, at what floor he couldn't tell.  He stumbled to the door and paused.  It was possible that while he was going through his trigger-happy orgy of shooting the hell out of the roof that the man had slipped out of the elevator shaft and was waiting for him, just outside that door, drum-fed automatic shotgun in hand, ready to check and mate him, ending the game.  Burning afterimages of gunfire pulsed in the darkness before his eyes in splotches of green and orange as he pondered the outcome of such a scenario.  Deciding that it wouldn't be in his favor, he jumped and punched through the tattered ceiling, grasping for a handhold.  The elevator abruptly dropped a few inches, tearing him from his tenuous grip and dropping him to the ground.  He landed on his back on top of spent shells.  His dinner came up and he turned his head to puke off to the side.

He stood, wiping his mouth.  "Piece of shit elevator," he muttered, and jumped again.  He got a handhold and began tearing away chunks of elevator ceiling to create an opening wide enough to slip through.  He pulled himself up through the hole and knelt on the roof, catching his breath as sweat rolled down his face.  The rest of what was in his stomach tried to force its way up but he swallowed it down with a grimace.  The elevator cable, once a single thick braid of steel wires held taut through a pulley, were now two thick braids of steel wires that severed where a very large caliber bullet had cut through it.

He pulled himself up with one dangling cable and staggered against the wall, his legs suddenly buckling under his own weight.  Unconsciousness, as it had many times before in the past week, tried to pull him down.  He threw it off savagely and forced himself to stand on his own power.  He threw his head back, gulping in mouthfuls of air and staring up to where the elevator cable faded in the distance.

_Climb.  _Came the command, so he did, hand over hand pulling himself up, not bothering to use his feet for purchase, until he could not see the elevator below him.  Pitch darkness surrounded him.  Outside he could hear the panicked voices and shuffling feet of hotel clients leaving the building.  He waited until the sounds on the floor had stopped and decided that he had come up far enough to throw off pursuit, at least for a while.  He climbed up a few feet farther in order to make the leap to the door when it opened.

Mousse squinted his eyes at the sudden flood of light.  Standing in the corona of light was a tall figure wearing a long, dark coat.  He didn't have to see to know who it was.  He twisted to the side and let go of the rope a split second before a flat crack punched through the air.  Pain seared its way across the side of his face and he fell, tumbling through empty darkness.

***

Tofu looked over the edge where his prey had fallen and listened.  Faintly he could hear several thumps as his prey hit the walls of the shaft, and one sickening thud as he hit the elevator.  Then came the groan of tearing metal.  He looked up and saw the cable flying past as the elevator it was attached to fell.  He stayed long enough to hear the faint crash as it hit the ground and then turned leisurely toward the next elevator and pressed the button for the bottom floor.  He reached into his breast pocket, lit a cigarette and waited.

***

Voices.  A lot of them, against a background of sirens.

"Holy-.  Look at this!  What the hell happened here?"

"Cripes, man!  Look at those guns!"

"Oh my dear!  Is he alright?"

"Someone help him!"

"I don't think we should move him when he's like that…"

"Somebody get the doctors here!"

"Is that a toaster oven?"

Darkness.

***

Voices again, two this time.  He was careful to keep his eyes closed and breathing regular.

"…ready to roll?"

"Not yet.  Bunch of panicked rich people blocking the way.  Man, this guy reeks of something."

"I know.  It almost smells like smoke.  Is he burned?"  

"Doesn't look like it.  In spite of his injuries, he will definitely be alright."  Female.

"Think so?  He doesn't look too hot."

"It's not as bad as it looks.  He's hurt, but they're mostly surface wounds and I stitched up the only deep one.  I'm more worried about the fact that he may have contracted some sort of illness beforehand."

"Good.  So what about these scars, Mai?  Abuse?"

"Of the worst kind."  Mousse felt a smooth finger run along the ribs on his bare flank.  "I think these, the older ones, were made with a hot blade."

"Are you serious?"

The finger trailed to another scar, one farther down that ran behind his back.  "Well look at them.  They're old, years old, but I'd swear that whatever made these wounds cauterized instantly without burning the surrounding flesh.  They're everywhere.  And this nasty one around his neck.  It looks like someone tied a rope around his neck and tried to hang him with it."  The paramedic's voice lowered.  "I don't know for sure what did this, but I do know he was a kid when whatever caused this" -the hand removed itself and he had the impression of a sweeping gesture over his body- "happened to him."

"That's sick.  That's real sick," the other paramedic replied, sounding more shaken than disgusted.  "So what about the more recent ones?"

"Aside from bumps from the ride he took recently, bruised face on the right side, uneven cuts (they look like scratches) on his arms and under his right eye, a smoother cut along his side, by a knife I think, I don't know what along the left side of the face, and this little hickey right along the side of his neck.  I won't insult your intelligence by telling which ones took place five minutes ago."

"That's a hell of a bite.  What's his hobby, wrestling tigers?"

"Not exactly.  The bite mark was from human teeth."

There was silence for a few moments.  "You don't think he's one of them do you?"

"What?"

"You know.  From that one ward in the northeast.  Nerima."

"Come on, you don't believe in those stories do you?  It's probably just a rumor to drum up publicity for a dojo."

"I know, I know, but how do explain how we found him?"  The paramedic's voice lowered conspiratorially.  "That elevator must have fallen at least five stories and this kid gets nothing but a knocked head and a couple cuts and bruises.  And did you see all those guns?  Where the hell does anyone get so many guns?"

"Hey, you don't know if he was in that elevator when it fell and those were way too many guns for anyone to carry."

"It doesn't matter.  The fact is that he's involved with whatever happened here.  We need to take him to the police."

"Oh stop it, Shiro.  You're being paranoid."

Mousse, after deciding that he was not dead but that may soon change if he stayed any longer, sat up in his gurney.  He almost fell back as the blood rushed to his head.  The two paramedics gawped at him, the one called Shiro frozen in the act of pointing a finger at him.  He felt at the gauze taped to his cheek.  He was lucky.  The bullet had only grazed him.  He saw that he was also naked save for his underwear and bandages wrapped around his torso, which ached more than the rest of his body.  His own clothes were piled haphazardly in a corner of the ambulance.  He reached for them, then paused thoughtfully.

"Are you alright, buddy?" the one called Shiro ventured.  Mousse looked Shiro over.  He looked about the right height.  Not as wide around the shoulders, but beggars and choosers and all that.

            "I'm fine," Mousse replied amicably.  And then he pounced.

            Outside, people would see the ambulance rock slightly and hear what sounded like a cry being muffled and then nothing.  They shuffled a little farther away from it, all somehow agreeing with each other that nothing happened.  Strange things were afoot this night, and though none believed they would personally be affected, it would be better not to tempt fate.

***

            It didn't take long for Nabiki to be caught up in a flood of people in various states of undress rushing to the exit.  _Nothing quite motivates people more than the shrill wail of fire alarms_, she thought, when a sweaty, corpulent man bulled her over to the side.  She glared after him, and then looked away in disgust when she saw that he was wearing only briefs, which was nearly concealed under rolls of doughy flesh.  He did however leave a wide swathe where he cleared away other people, and she was quick to follow in spite of the unpleasant view ahead of her.

            Twenty-some flights of stairs later she reached the bottom floor, out of breath and with aching feet that she was sure were going to fall off at any moment.  The rush of people continued from the elevators and the stairwells and lead outside.  She didn't even try to look for Mousse among the crowd; she had the feeling he would let himself be known.  But when she got outside, there was nothing out of the ordinary from what was to be expected when a tall building catches on fire.  A mob staring up at the hotel, looking for smoke, police pushing the mob back, trying to establish order, firemen setting up hoses, reporters, and ambulances.  She thought that he would have been the center of attention in one way or another, perhaps fighting Tofu or maybe tossing around hapless bystanders in his way.  But he wasn't.  So she searched the crowd, pushing past gawkers and standing on her tiptoes looking for any hint that he might be going through the crowd looking for her as well.

            She started when a hand gently took her by the arm.  "Looking for someone, miss?"

            She turned to face a very young paramedic with a bandage taped to the side of his face and an ill fitting uniform.  It only took her a moment to realize it was Mousse disguised as a paramedic.  He looked steady enough, more in possession of his thoughts than he had on top of the roof, but his body looked battered, his hair in disarray and a new wound on his face to add to the number of livid scars standing out against pallid skin.  Before she could say anything however, he pressed one finger against his lips in a gesture of silence and had her walk beside him.  They walked at a brisk pace and she couldn't help but notice his gait was slightly uneven.

            "Where are we going?" she asked quietly as they weaved through the crowd.

            He scanned the crowd constantly.  Several times he changed course, sometimes pushing people aside roughly, but he never paused even for a moment.  _Looking for Tofu_, she thought, and a pang of confused sorrow went through her.

            "I don't know," he answered.  A man he shoved aside came back at him, cursing, but Mousse, without even looking, simply pushed him back again.  The push didn't look any stronger than the last one but the man was sent flying back and bowled over several other people.  Nabiki stared.  Even like this, he was still formidable.  "I didn't reserve any safehouses."  A fierce scowl passed over his face.  "I can't believe how stupid I am.  I should have known something like this was going to happen."

            Nabiki chose to remain silent while he vented.  She saw that they were now approaching the edge of the crowd.  He must have seen the same, for he fell silent as well.  He pressed his index finger against his lips in the universal gesture for quiet and approached a limousine.  The young chauffeur was watching the entire scene in front of his car with the same wide-eyed curiosity as the rest of the crowd.  So he didn't see Mousse until he was right upon him.

            "Oh, hi," he said, startled.  
            "Good evening," Mousse replied, and then grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted until the man's feet were dangling helplessly above the ground.  "Will you drive or do I make you drive?"

            "I'll drive!" he exclaimed.

            Mousse turned to Nabiki.  "Shall we go?"

            She nodded wordlessly and followed him inside.  "Drive," Mousse said.  He waited until they were on the road before looking at her.  "Are you hurt?"

            "No, I'm alright.  What about you?" she replied.  "You look terrible."

            He chuckled humorlessly.  "It's not as bad as it looks, so I've been told."  He took a deep breath and exhaled.  He suddenly seemed to sag in on himself and grow smaller.  "I'm so tired," he said in a barely audible whisper.  "I think I'm going to close my eyes for a while…"

            "Mousse?"  Nabiki shook him gently.  He fell over on his side, his breath coming in deep, even breaths.

            "So where are we supposed to go?" the driver asked stiffly.  He kept his head rigidly facing the front and didn't even look into the rearview mirror.

            Nabiki sighed and watched the hotel become smaller as they pulled away.  She couldn't simply dump him somewhere.  Tofu would find him.  There was no helping it.  "Nerima," she said.  "Take us to Nerima."


	16. Part XV

            "A deep wound, doctor," said Cologne as she bound Tofu's hand with bandages.  He clenched his teeth when she tied off the wrappings with a sharp tug.  He tried to reply that it wasn't as bad as it looked, but she placed both hands on the sides of his face and turned it to examine for any more wounds.  She grunted when she was satisfied he was hurt nowhere else.  "The bandage and the medicine will have to be replaced tomorrow," she said, gathering up the various medical apparatus that was strewn over the table.  She placed them into a small bag and looked up at him before taking it back into the storage room.  "I'm sure Mr. Watanabe won't mind if you stay here until then, but I will want to know what happened to you out there."  

            Tofu stared at his wounded hand and nodded, though he was sure she knew exactly what had happened.  He supposed it was coincidence that she would be looking after his old friend's clinic while he taking a vacation in Okinawa.  A vacation he decided to take only three days previous.  For his health.  Right.

He felt the urge to flex his hand experimentally, just to see if he could, but he knew it was foolish to do so.  For one who made his living with his hands, putting even one through unnecessary danger was enough to end his brief career as a doctor.  If he even had the right to the title when he was done.

            _If it is given to me to save a life, all thanks…But it may also be in my power to take a life…I must not play at God…_

            His oath.  While he may not be recognized as having the right to the oath by others, he considered it his.  It was a good oath and he earned the right to it.  At least he thought he did, until recently.  What was the use of a doctor who cast aside his solemn promise never to harm another, no matter the circumstance?

            _I'm human dammit, not a saint.  It was the same argument everyday.  How could a healer knowingly kill and have the right to still consider himself a healer?  But then he would remember what awaited him when he arrived at the Amazon village.  Hollow eyed young warriors barely able to hold up their weapons in their grief over the deaths of their elders.  The bloody, unrecognizable remains of what might have been Lo-Hsin.  His old teacher Po-Hsin, whom he had not seen since he first became a healer, dead, holes in her hands and feet where the nails had gone through and her midsection cut open so her insides spilled out like some grotesque __piñata.  His rage had not cooled since that day, nor through the better part of the year he spent tracking down the monster that had done it.  And always his trail was marked by corpses._

            _How could they allow him to do this?  His thoughts always came to this question.  He knew it was a shallow way of relieving his guilt, but it was still justified in a way.  __Why would they allow someone Agoge__-trained to do something like this?  He might be a renegade, but that didn't make sense.  He's young, far too young to have completed his training; they would have brought him down easily a long time ago if he were a renegade, unless he was the next Yeosol.  And he definitely was not that.  If the boy was even half as dangerous as that maniac, their encounter this would have ended very differently.  So the only explanation would be that either they are staying out of the boy's way, or worse, supporting him.  If it was the latter, then Tofu wouldn't have to worry about his future career as a doctor if he killed the boy._

            He didn't realize he was clenching his fists together until he heard the steady drip of blood from his bound hand.  He hissed in pain and eased it open until he could see stained bandages.  His newly opened wound throbbed.

            _I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.  He smiled grimly.  There was no cure for the death the boy spread.  But it could be prevented.  He could prevent it.  One life for many.  He wouldn't play at God, he wasn't as arrogant as that.  But he would carry out his duty as a doctor, and prevent the disease the boy spread.  After all, he had an oath to uphold._

***

            Mousse was still unconscious when they arrived at Nabiki's house.  She had hoped he would have come to by now.  It was late enough that everyone should be asleep so there was little chance of any embarrassing and potentially lethal moments, but she didn't feel like dragging him all the way inside from the street.  So far he didn't like he was breathing at all.  At that thought, her eyes widened in alarm and she quickly put her hand just beneath his nose.  She sighed in relief when she felt his breath going in and out in a weak but regular rhythm.

            She flopped back against the seat and shot his unconscious figure a venomous glance.  _Idiot, she thought.  __You should have listened to me.  __Then you wouldn't be in this situation and me with you._

            The car slowed and came to a stop.  "Here we are ma'am," announced the chauffeur.  She could hear the slight fear in his voice, but it was much less than what it had been when Mousse convinced him to give them a ride.  It even sounded a little defiant.  _He's remembering he's a man.  Her lips twisted in annoyance.  __He could try something stupid.  She looked out the window at the closed gate to her house and cursed._

            She leaned over the seat until she was speaking directly in the ear of the driver.  "Wait here for me," she ordered in her sternest, most business-like voice she could muster.  "Don't try to drive off or do anything stupid.  If I'm not here when he wakes up…"  She let the threat hang in the air for a moment and then stepped out of the car.

            She ran up to the gate that led into the main yard and unlocked it with the spare she always carried with her.  She opened it a crack and cursed again at what she saw.  The kitchen light was on.  She stole a backward glance at the limo and opened the gate just wide enough to slip through.  She walked as casually as she could up the stone path leading to the porch, thinking of ways she could solve both herself and Mousse's problem with their skins intact.

            "Nabiki?"

She nearly jumped at the voice that came out of the darkness.  "Don't scare me like that Akane!" she cried, breathing hard to get her thundering heartbeat under control.  "What are you doing out here in the dark?"

Akane stepped out of the shadows from the porch she was sitting on, still dressed in the clothes she had been wearing all day.  She crossed her arms under her breasts and shrugged.  "Just needed some air," she said distantly.

Nabiki's expression softened at seeing her younger sister.  She looked pale and tired, and the dark rings under her eyes stood out even in the weak light of the moon.  She hadn't gotten any sleep at all since Ranma was brought back, but it was the worry that was gnawing at her.  "You should get some sleep, Akane," she said with genuine concern.  She tried smiling reassuringly.  "Ranma will be alright."

Akane yawned and nodded wearily.  "So what are you doing here this late at night?" she asked in that same distant tone.  She looked up and down the dress Nabiki was wearing and smiled slyly.  "Meeting with a new beau?"

Nabiki laughed nervously.  "Well, sort of, but I-"

The sound of squealing tires filled the night air suddenly, cutting off her response and making her stomach feel like it dropped to her feet.  _He wouldn't…_

"_Bosozoku?  Here?"  Akane asked the air, since Nabiki was already running back toward the gate._

Nabiki's first reaction when she saw Mousse unconscious on the sidewalk where the chauffeur had dumped him was to make sure he wasn't seriously hurt, but she knew better than to let her emotions run away with her.  So instead she turned and caught Akane just as she was coming up to the gate.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her weariness forgotten, straining to look over her sister's shoulder.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Nabiki said in false cheeriness, trying to position herself between her sister and Mousse.  But when she heard her gasp she knew she had failed.  So instead she tried to prepare her for the coming shock.  "Akane, it's not what you think…"

Akane shouldered past her easily and ran to where he lay and turned him over to face her.  "Sir, are you-?"  Nabiki sighed in resignation.  _Too late.  She expected Akane to overreact somehow.  Maybe scream and punt him into the skyline, or call for everyone in the house to wake up.  Instead she slowly turned her head around to look up at her sister with an expression of sorrow._

"Oh, Nabiki."

***

"What a night, what a night."_  Happosai slurred to himself as he stumbled his way through the streets of Nerima.  It wasn't everyday that he got to party like this and let off some steam.  Spirits above knew he needed it.  Not just anyone could shoulder the great burden of keeping the name of the school of Anything Goes alive.  And do it without help, nonetheless.  Two of his disciples were inept cowards who couldn't fight their way out of paying a restaurant bill.  And while Akane was a pretty young thing, she was far too hardheaded to teach anything.  The only one who showed any promise out of the whole lot was Ranma, and because of that he took extra care to practice with the boy as much as possible.  And how does the impudent wretch repay his master's kindness and patient training?  He deems him a pervert and says so out loud to his face at every opportunity!_

"It's enough to make an old man cry," he sobbed to himself, scrubbing at his eyes with a pair of silk panties he pulled from his sack.  The owner of that particular undergarment only chased him for a block before giving up.  Not a lot of fun, but very generous on her part.  The women in Okinawa were so much more accommodating than the ones on the mainland.  It must be the tropical weather.  He would have to go back someday.  

He tilted the jug of _sake he carried with an elbow to let the last of the fiery liquid wash down his throat.  He frowned when none came and shook the jug around some and peered into it, as if some might have been hiding from him.  A ridiculous notion to some unlearned people, but he knew not to put anything past it.  __Sake was a crafty drink._

He tossed the jug aside and stood as tall as he could without falling over backward.  Now was not the time to contemplate the sly nature of alcohol, for the month was still young and so was he.  There was only one thing to do at this time of night, drunk, with no good liquor stores open, and a sack full of silky darlings strapped to his back.  Sleep it off at Soun's.  And maybe fondle Ranma.  Yeah.

But actually finding the dojo proved to be more of a challenge than he thought it would.  He found himself going in the wrong the direction twice and around in a circle once.  He tried asking the tall, thin men with lights on their heads directions but they stubbornly refused to acknowledge his existence even after he knocked a couple of them down.  And it didn't look like they were going anywhere, lined up along the street like that.  Uppity bastards.

But he did find the house eventually, and with the lights on.  "They left a light on for me," he said to himself in wonder.  A strange feeling welled up inside him.  There was a moment of sheer panic for him at the thought that the alien emotion might be something akin to gratitude.  So he sighed in relief when he realized that it was actually heartburn from the spicy fish sausage the restaurant owner had generously provided him with earlier that day.  Thank goodness.

He decided not to go in through the kitchen.  Though they may be waiting for him, maybe even worried for him, he knew that the moment they saw how utterly wasted he was, they'd lose all semblance of compassion and move in for the kill.  They were weak, but they were opportunists, every one of them, and he knew they'd try to bury him somewhere for another ten years.  _Well, not tonight, no sir I'm have too much fun, he thought, and pulled down his lower eyelid with his free hand and stuck his tongue out in the general direction of the kitchen._

He jumped onto the eaves on the second floor and with a little work, opened the window to one of the rooms.  He jumped in, and after a moment of bleary-eyed examination he saw that he was in Nabiki's room.  What he didn't see was the boy lying unconscious on the floor.  Until he saw that he was standing on his chest.

Happosai froze, expecting the boy to awaken immediately.  But the boy didn't even react.  His breathing barely changed even with the added weight.  So Happosai sat down, legs crossed under him, to ponder the boy's presence and to wait for the room to stop spinning.

He set his bag behind him on the boy's legs and scratched his bald head.  The first thought that came to mind was suitably lecherous.  Here was a suitor for Nabiki that was a bit more successful than the rest.  Successful enough that he'd be stripped to the waist and passed out in her room after hours.  The thought made him grin, but unless Nabiki had some truly exotic hobbies, that still left the question of why he was wearing all those bandages and looked like he was beaten like an unruly stepchild.  Then perhaps Ranma had a go at him.  But that didn't make sense either.  It wasn't Ranma's style to beat an opponent half to death unless it was absolutely necessary.  Or to use poison which, judging from the boy's aura, was a very potent one.  And it was an interesting aura, too.  It was very weak now, but he could see that it would be incredibly powerful once he got his strength back.  And the patterns the chi made as it flowed through his body were truly rare.  So rare he had seen patterns like those only once.  In one man.  

            An image cut through the drunken haze in his head.  A man, wreathed in swirling chi energies which shone with a light that rivaled that of the sun.  Heat radiated from the man like a bonfire, so much so that getting closer than ten paces became unbearable.  But the man didn't seem to feel any of it, and indeed he seemed to be smiling in the knowledge of his own power.  At that moment he could have been a god or a devil.

            Happosai didn't realize he was backing away from the boy until his back hit the far wall.  His stomach was roiling, and suddenly all the _sake he drank over the past couple of days turned sour.  He groaned, but it wasn't because of a sour stomach.  The boy on the floor wasn't the man-god, but someone connected with him in some way.  A student perhaps; intense training can alter chi patterns in a body to resemble someone else's.  Good spirits forbid the boy is his son.  _

            He took a deep breath and forced himself away from the wall until he was by the boy's side.  He knelt and puzzled over the situation.  He didn't bother thinking about why the boy was here or how.  Those questions would answer themselves in time.  The boy was here, and his master may not be far behind.  He had only one thought:  _How do I keep my school alive?  _

***

"What's going on, Nabiki?"  Akane demanded bluntly.

Nabiki winced at the tone of the question.  It meant Akane wanted the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  No discussion.  And Nabiki was too tired to mince words.  Too much had happened for her to even think straight.

She stared into her tea for a while before beginning.  She told her sister everything; the phone call, the dinner, the hotel, and Tofu.  When she stopped she gulped down her drink in one draught.  She only rarely had to confess like that.  It always made her feel vulnerable.

There was quiet at the other end of the table for a moment.  "You went on a date with him?"  Nabiki winced again.  This time there was accusation tinged with incredulity.  "He almost kills Ranma and you go on a date with him?  He could have hurt you!"

"He wouldn't have hurt me," Nabiki retorted.  She hated the defensive tone of her voice.  "And it wasn't a real date.  Not really.  We were just there to get information out of the other."  
            "Uh-huh," said Akane skeptically.  "And what did you find out?"

Nabiki sighed.  "Not a lot.  He's clever, and he tried to hide as much as possible.  I think he might be an Amazon himself, but he also says the Amazons killed his family."  She frowned.  "I don't know why they let him live, but I think they did something to him."

"Those scars," Akane said softly.

Nabiki bit her lip at the memory.  They had carried him upstairs, Nabiki carrying his feet with Akane on the other end, to Nabiki's room to let him sleep when she accidentally dropped him.  There was a moment of breathless terror while they waited for someone to wake up.  But no one did and they hurriedly picked him up and placed him on the floor inside her room.  When they took off his shirt to check if any of his wounds reopened, they saw the scars.  They were everywhere, criss-crossed lines of white scar tissue.  It was as if someone had tried to decorate his body with a whip.

"Yeah," Nabiki replied.

"So what about-," Akane began, but stopped mid-sentence.  She looked up.  "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Nabiki asked, but stood up, nervous.  Akane was looking up where her room was.  The last thing she needed was someone finding Mousse here.

No more words were exchanged and the two hurried as quietly as they could up the stairs.  When they reached the second floor, they slowed down and crept along the wall until they reached the door to Nabiki's room.  The door was still closed, much to Nabiki's relief.  They waited for a moment, listening for the slightest sound from inside the room.  But all they heard was deafening silence

She let out her breath in a huff and smiled shakily at her younger sister.  Akane smiled back and opened the door.  Nabiki closed the door behind them while Akane turned on the lights.  For a moment Nabiki thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head she saw nothing.  The window was open, which made the curtains flutter.  The only thing in the room out of the ordinary was an unconscious boy laid out in the middle.

_What am I going to do with you?  She thought at him.  Akane's hand on her arm brought her out of her thoughts._

"I guess we'll have to leave him here until we can think of something," she said.  She looked at Mousse lying on the floor and at her pointedly.  "I'm going to bed now, Nabiki.  And I don't think Dad and Mr. Saotome would want to be disturbed at this time of night.  But in the morning…."

"He'll be gone by then, I promise," Nabiki replied, grateful for her sister's confidence.  But she wished she felt as sure as she sounded.  She pulled Akane in for a hug.  "Thanks."

Akane squeezed her back.  "Don't get involved with him, Nabiki.  He's dangerous."  And she left.

Nabiki stood at the doorway for a moment longer until she heard Akane's door close and then shut her own.  She leaned back against it and sighed.  At least it wasn't a boring night.

She quickly and as quietly as she could, crept into the bathroom, gave herself a quick wash, and then crept back.  She pulled her clothes off, keeping an eye on Mousse in case he should wake up at that inopportune moment, but his eyes remained closed.  She quickly pulled her pajamas on and went to turn out the light.  She hesitated for a moment and then pulled an extra blanket and a pillow out of her closet.  She draped the blanket over him and placed the pillow under his head.  She stood up, satisfied with her work, and then flipped the switch.

She lay awake in the dark, unable to sleep.  The only sound in the room was Mousse's shallow breathing.  She caught herself staring at his darkened form, so she turned over on her other side so she faced the wall.  It didn't help.

_He's going to panic when he wakes up.  He won't recognize where he is and he's going to panic._

Finally, with a huff, she threw her legs over the bed and stood up.  She picked up her blanket and her pillow and walked the two steps to where Mousse lay.  She threw the pillow down and lay down beside him, draping the blanket over them both. 

She pushed herself up on an elbow so she was looking down on him.  "I hope you're happy," she said softly and settled down facing him.  It wasn't so bad, she told herself.  As long as he was comatose and kept under that blanket, he really couldn't do anything unseemly.  She reached out an arm and settled it over his chest.  She could feel his heartbeat, slow and faint.  _Don't get involved with him, he's dangerous.  I know._


	17. Part XVI

            _…little boy…o__ur__ little boy…___

            Mousse awoke, screaming.  At least, he would have had not his throat suddenly clamped shut.  So instead of a scream, it came out stillborn in the form of a high rasp.  He tried to move, but could only clench and unclench his hands impotently.  His open eyes saw only darkness. His heart hammered so hard against the wall of his chest that it felt as though his entire body was shaking.  Paralyzed, suffocating, unseeing; it was much as he remembered.  But slowly, agonizingly slowly, he took back control.  His heart slowed and the darkness that clouded his eyes faded away.  His forced his painfully tensed muscles to unlock and relax.  He lay where he was, gulping in mouthfuls of air, exhausted from the struggle with his own body.

He took stock of his surroundings.  He was in a room with a ceiling he didn't recognize.  He could hear birds outside.  Morning then, or close enough.  Something smelled faintly of perfume.  There were two blankets lying over him.  He never liked blankets.  They were confining.  There was movement out of the corner of his eye and something warm settled on his neck.  

His first thought was to pull out a knife and do something horrible with it.  When nothing appeared, he tightened his hand into a fist and turned his head to look at what had touched him.  What he saw was Nabiki blinking at him sleepily.  She yawned and stretched under the covers.  She smiled slightly at him.  "Good morning."

Mousse stared.  There was a moment of incomprehension, followed by a moment of sheer panic.  He sat bolt upright and was pulled down again hard when Nabiki grabbed a handful of hair and yanked.  She turned his face toward her and sidled closer to him until their noses were almost touching.

She put a finger to her lips.  "Shh.  They're asleep."

He nodded dumbly.  He licked his lips.  She smelled like flowers.  "Where-?"

As if reading his mind, she whispered, "You're in my room."  She grinned.  "Don't worry.  I didn't take advantage of you while you were out."

"Well now, isn't this cute?"

The two of them started at the voice.  Nabiki immediately backed away and pulled the covers up while Mousse was out, facing the source of the voice.  A ridiculously small, wizened old man was kneeling in front of the door, looking at them with a raised eyebrow.  

_Not another one.  Mousse thought through the head rush he got from rising too quickly.  He felt every single wound he took the night before throbbing.  __Too soon.__  It's too soon.  I can't fight like this, not with her here.  _

And then he bared his teeth in a fierce grin.  What foolishness.  This is the way it has always been.  Outmatched and unready, sacrificing a piece of himself just so he would be able to survive till the next fight.  There wasn't going to be much of him left when it all ends.  He would have been afraid, if he ever cared to think that far ahead.

The old man seemed unconcerned at Mousse's expression.  Instead he looked at Nabiki.  "So are you going to tell you friend to calm down, or do I make him?"

"Mousse, wait-"

He didn't hear.  The old man was dangerous.  He could feel it in the way his heartbeat quickened when he saw him.  He was just like the Elders.  He had to die.  He tensed.  _Quickly.  _

He felt a hand on his leg as he was ready to lunge.  He looked down and saw Nabiki, who recoiled slightly at the look on his face.  "It's alright Mousse," she said, after moving a bit away from him.  "He won't hurt you."

He relaxed slightly.  She didn't have any reason to lie to him.  He turned back to the old man, and something dark flew at his face.  He sidestepped and swiped with a stiffened hand instinctively.  The dark thing caught on the side of his hand and hung there limply.  It was the shirt he stole from the paramedic.

"Jumpy, are we?" asked the old man cynically.  He stood up.  "Put that on and follow me."

Mousse pulled the shirt over his head, and used the time it took to examine his surroundings again.  Her room was surprisingly minimalist.  He had the impression a girl like her with so much money on her hands would have a room full of things.  Then he saw the stereo on the dresser, a high quality brand, and the dress she wore last night hung carelessly over a chair, and the tiny bottle of expensive perfume on the desk.  It wasn't that she was tight with her money.  She simply knew what she wanted.  And from what he saw of her actions the past night, he wondered if she also wanted him.

"You stay here," said the old man to Nabiki, who was getting up.  "We'll talk later."

She paused, unsure, when Mousse looked at her and shook his head.  She let her breath out in a huff and sat back down.  He could feel her gaze on his back as he pulled on his shoes.  He looked back as he was leaving and saw that she was still looking at him.  She raised her hand slightly and he raised his in return before shutting the door.

The old man moved with surprising spryness.  Or perhaps not so surprising, considering who he was.  "Why are you helping me?" asked Mousse.

"You talk too much lad," he answered in a whisper Mousse could barely hear.  He turned suddenly and stared hard at him.  Even if the old man barely came up past his knee, Mousse had the feeling he was facing a giant.  He clenched his teeth.  It was just like with the Elders.  "Just play along with me and you might get out of here alive.  I trust Yeosol trained well enough to follow simple instructions?"

Mousse blinked in surprise, and then almost barked out a harsh laugh.  So that was it.  The old man was afraid of Yeosol.  He couldn't blame the old man; he himself was terrified of his mentor.  But the old man was severely overestimating his teacher's capacity to feel anything like love or concern for a pupil.  In all the years he spent under Yeosol's wing, the only emotions he could identify in his old teacher were contemptuous amusement and occasional lust.

Mousse kept his mouth shut and struggled to keep his expression under control.  The old man's fear worked to his advantage, and he suspected it was the only thing keeping him alive at the moment.  He nodded at the old man once, who looked at him one last time before moving down the hall.

"After you," said the old man when they came to the stairs.

Mousse did as he was told and found himself facing two men coming up the stairs.  He tensed as both of them, wearing karate gi and carrying long staves, looked up at him simultaneously.  Their mouths dropped in surprise, but they quickly recovered and pulled their staves up in a fighting stance.  Thoughts of betrayal ran through his mind and he prepared to throw himself at them, when the old man appeared beside him.

"Soun!  Genma!" he whispered harshly.  "What are you doing?"

The two men started.  "Master?" said the heavyset one.  He lowered his staff and scratched his bald head under the bandana.  "What's going on?"

"Never mind that, Genma," snapped the old man.  He turned to the other man, who looked to be the physical opposite of Genma, slender with long hair and a moustache.  "It's your house, Soun.  Show our guest some hospitality."

The two men responded with a quick, if confused affirmative, and hurried in the opposite direction.  "Come on lad," said the old man.  "It's time you met some of my more worthless students."

***

Nabiki counted out one minute before leaving her room.  Happosai didn't honestly believe she'd stay inside, did he?  She crept along slowly, careful to avoid the spot on the floor that creaked, and stopped at the top of the stairs.  Happosai couldn't have known that her father and Genma had taken to training in the predawn hours.  She hoped that none of them had met, and she strained her ears to hear sounds of a fight.  There was nothing, but that disturbed her even more.

_What would Mousse do if he was attacked?  She wondered.  The thought of her father and soon-to-be uncle knocking heads with Mousse and possibly even Happosai wasn't very reassuring.  It was then that she heard it, a faint exchange of words followed by laughter._

She paused at the sound, then shrugged.  _Might as well._

She climbed down the stairs, making her step slightly heavier than usual, as if she was still half asleep.  The sound was coming from the den.  They were sitting at the table, cups in front of all of them, Mousse beside Happosai, who was gesturing enthusiastically to Genma and her father across from him.

"-so the boy here jumps in front of me and says to them-" he stopped when he noticed her.  His face tightened in annoyance.  "Nabiki.  You're up rather early."

"Ah, good morning Nabiki," said her father.  "Say hello to our guest… ah, I don't believe I caught your name young man?"

"Kaoru, Mr. Tendo.  Takahashi Kaoru," said Mousse quietly, looking embarrassed at all the attention.  He bowed his head toward her.  "Good morning, Miss Tendo."

"Our friend Kaoru is a paramedic," said her father.  He winked conspiratorially.  "He saved Happosai from some hoodlums the other night."

Genma nodded, and grinned.  "Yeah, who knows what would have happened to Happosai if Kaoru hadn't have been there.  He's a model young man if I've ever seen one."

Happosai looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth.  "Yes, he certainly is," he muttered.  He turned to Nabiki.  "Last night I was confronted by three young men looking to mug a defenseless old man like me.  But Kaoru here came to my rescue, and got somewhat injured.  It was late, and I insisted that he spend the night here."

"It was the end of my shift," Mousse said quietly.  "I was very tired.  I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, Kaoru," said her father amiably.

Silence settled over the room.  It was then she noticed that they were expecting her to say something.  She had to play along.  "You're kinda young for a paramedic, aren't you?" she said, and almost clapped her hands over her mouth.  _Why did I say that?  She thought.  __I'm going to blow his cover!_

Happosai started coughing violently into his cup, but Mousse only smiled.  "I get that a lot.  It's a part of a new program at East City Hospital.  The idea is that interns ride along with real paras, so that they can learn something about what it's like on the street."  He shrugged.  "Some of interns can't handle the eight hour shifts, but it's great PR for the hospital."

"So you're a student at one of the university's medical schools?" said her father, looking genuinely impressed.  "You must be quite talented."

He shrugged again.  "It isn't much really.  I'm just doing what I like to do."

Genma laughed.  "Modest as well as upright."

Her father nodded in agreement.  "He certainly is, Saotome."  He turned to Mousse.  "Tell me lad, would you like to stay for breakfast?  My daughter Kasumi should be up and about shortly if you're hungry."

Mousse shook his head.  "Thank you sir, but I cannot.  I need to get back to the hospital to fill out some paperwork."

"Ah, well that's too bad," said her father.  "Do you have any way to get back?"

"I thought I'd walk until I got out of Nerima," replied Mousse.  "My partner told me that for some reason cabs won't come out here.  I wonder why that is?"

Her father cleared his throat and laughed nervously.  "Well, surely it's a mystery to us all.  Anyway, since you're leaving, you must excuse Genma and myself.  We must return to our practice.  It was good meeting you, and I hope you will visit us again."  He stood and turned toward Nabiki.  "Nabiki, please show our guest out, will you?"

She shrugged.  "Come with me, please," she said to Mousse.

He nodded, thanked her father for the tea, and silently followed her to the door.  There, she turned suddenly and placed her hands on either side of his face.  He started and tried to pull away, but she kept in step with him.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, tracing the scar on his cheek with a thumb.

He shook his head and gently removed her hands from his face.  "You shouldn't worry about me.  I'm used to it."

"Good," she said.  She balled her hand into a fist and punched him as hard as she could in the stomach.  It was like punching a brick wall, but she was gratified when it was met by a surprised grunt.

"That's what you get for putting me through all that last night," she told a speechless Mousse.  Before he could react, she moved as close as she could and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.  She grinned.  "It was fun though.  Once you've taken care of your business, give me a call."  And then she walked away.

Mousse remained standing there for a moment, wondering whether what had just happened was a good thing or not, when a Happosai reminded him of his existence by clearing his throat.  If he was amused, his face didn't show it.

"I can only hope this will be the last time you and I meet, though I doubt it," he said.  "I can only tell you this, lad.  I don't know why you're here, and I don't want to know.  But if you're going to die, do it somewhere else.  If there's any scrap of humanity in you, you'll do that.  There's no point in allowing innocents to get hurt in a personal feud."  He looked like he wanted to say more, but he just shook his head and went back into the den.

On the way out of Nerima, Mousse pondered over what he heard during his brief stay at the Tendos.  _Give me a call...  There's no point in allowing innocents to get hurt…  __Do you're dying somewhere else…  He never should have gotten her involved in the first place.  His raging teenage hormones told him differently, but he knew the old man was right.  His hand drifted up to the spot where she had kissed him, and let it drop with a weary sigh.  Events were moving too quickly for him to control.  It was supposed to be so simple; kill the Elder, wipe out the village, go back and figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life.  He lifted his face to the early morning sky as if beseeching some higher force.  __When did life get so complicated?_

***

            "What do you think, Saotome?" asked Soun, bringing his staff down hard.

            "It's almost time for breakfast," replied Genma, parrying the staff with his own.  He shoved against Soun's body with his staff, forcing him back.

            "I meant the boy."  Soun staggered back, on the defensive, and held the point of his staff forward to check Genma's forward movement.

            Genma looked thoughtful for a moment while knocking Soun's staff off-center.  "Cold," he answered.  "Very cold."

            Soun nodded.  "I thought so, too," he said.  "Do you believe that story of his?  About being a medical student and saving the master and all that?"  He dipped the staff down and stabbed at his feet.

            Genma leapt back.  "I'm not sure.  The way the boy talked, it was hard to tell.  Like I said, cold."

            Soun sighed and set the end of the staff on the ground.  "You want to stop for the morning, Saotome?"

            Genma also relaxed out of his fighting stance.  "You go ahead, Tendo.  I think I'll stay out a bit longer."

            "Of course," he answered.  His old friend was taking the near-death of his son hard.  He was too, of course.  He already considered the boy a part of the family, and so did practically everyone else.  Ranma and Akane didn't want to admit it, but they'd come around sooner or later.  But now so many strange things were happening.  An outsider beats Ranma into a coma.  Akane is kidnapped, and then returned on the same day.  Dr. Tofu returns radically different from the way he remembered him.  And now this Kaoru boy comes and saves Happosai from some thugs, as hard as that was to believe.  He paused, an uncomfortable feeling forming in his stomach.  Could they all be connected somehow?  He shook his head.  _You're getting paranoid in your old age.  _

But then he remembered earlier in the morning, when he first saw the boy.  He had never seen such a chilling expression before.  For the split second before Happosai showed up, he was sure the boy was going to kill him.  A chill ran up his spine.  Paranoid, certainly.  He was just a boy, and that was that.  It was just his imagination running away with him.  No more than that.  Surely not.

***

Upstairs, Ranma opened his eyes.


	18. Part XVII

            Mousse was half a mile out of Nerima when Mori picked him up.  Mori waved him down beside a small, anonymous blue car he had parked beside a sidewalk café, and from inside the two waited for traffic to resume.  "I am glad to see you are still alive, sir," said Mori.

            "Same here," came Mousse's muffled reply as he pulled off the stolen paramedic's shirt.  He was grateful to be out of the constricting piece of clothing and away from the stares of curious bystanders unused to seeing paramedics outside of an ambulance.  "You have anything I can wear?"

            Mori gestured to the backseat, where Mousse found a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans and tennis shoes.  Not his usual style, but they would do until he got some real clothing.  He had pulled the shirt over his head and was fumbling with his pants when he heard Mori cough.  He looked at the older man quizzically, and then out his window where he noticed that a pair of young women seated at a table near them had taken an interest in what he was doing.  One covered her mouth as she laughed while the other just smiled directly at him.  He felt himself turning red, and with as much dignity as he could muster, sat up and zipped his pants.

            He could see Mori was trying hard to suppress a grin.  "Shut up, Mori," he said, unable to keep a trace of petulance out of his voice.

            "Yes, sir," Mori said gravely, pressing down on the accelerator as traffic began to move.

            Mousse waited until they were speeding through the twists and turns of the highway before attempting to change.  "So what's happened since last night?" asked Mousse.

            "The scene at the hotel is under investigation, though you yourself are not.  If asked, the staff will say you left the hotel the night before the incident and had not been seen since."

            Mousse nodded.  Leave it to Mori to make everything right.  "And our friend?"

            "I am afraid the fellow who assaulted you disappeared around the same time you did," replied Mori.  "The police could find no trace of anyone involved with the gunfight."

            "I see."  Mousse made a note to put a bullet in the man's head next time they should meet.  No talking, just a single shot just below the nose, where the bullet would sever the area where the spinal cord and the brain met.  Instant death and one less problem to worry about.  But first he needed guns.  Lots of guns.

"Who's the weapons supplier here?" he asked.

"Date Ishiro I believe.  He lives on the opposite side of the city.  Will you need to write a list, sir?" asked Mori.

"More than likely," replied Mousse.  It was going to be a rather large order this time, even for him.  He could still vividly remember the feeling of running out of weapons.  It was an episode he preferred not to repeat.  "And what about my cat?"

"I left it in the care of one of your hired men.  He seemed less than eager to take the responsibility."

Mousse nodded.  "Let him know he'll be compensated for his inconvenience."   

"Of course.  Is there any other business you must attend to?"

Mousse mulled over the question a moment before answering.  "No.  After we finish with Date we'll go back to the hotel."

"Sir, are you sure that is wise?" asked Mori in alarm.  "What if the fellow from the other night returns?"

Mousse shrugged.  "He wouldn't be stupid enough to attack me in the same place twice.  Besides, he merely caught me off guard the first time.  He knows if he tries again, he's a dead man."

"You seem to be getting caught off guard rather frequently in the last week or so, if you don't mind me saying."

Mousse's countenance darkened, and he was about to say that he did mind Mori's saying so and that he was overstepping his bounds.  But he swallowed his pride and grudgingly admitted to himself that he was becoming careless now that he was so close to achieving his goal.  His reckless unconcern for his own life had often been a source of complaints from his family, but only recently had it come so close to destroying him.  And not once, but twice, in the forms of a talented but rankly amateurish fighter who thinks he's a cat and an assassin with a perverse sense of justice, both of who were still alive.  He would have to be more careful now than ever, with so many threats freely wandering about.  "Just drive, Mori."

"Yes, sir," said Mori unhappily.

Silence settled over the car and Mousse idly watched the moving scenery outside his window.  Now that he was able to relax, he felt his wounds begin to ache.  The puckered scar on his leg where Cologne had thrown the dart at him; the scratch under his eye where Ranma had clawed at him; the mark across his cheek where the assassin had shot him; the myriad lashes he had all over his body from his days under Yeosol's mentoring.  And of course the one around his neck.  His first and his best.  A gift, from the Amazon people to him.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  After so many long years of harsh privation and even harsher training, the pain was negligible.  It merely served as a reminder of his duty to kill the Amazons.  For his father, for his mother, for the time they locked him away in the dark, they had to die.  And he would do so slowly, piece by piece, allowing them to watch their entire world crumble before them into dust before he finally snuffs them out altogether.  Just another obscure, primitive people forever lost to the passing of time.  It was the least they deserved.

***

            Ranma remembered everything.  It was a strange sensation recalling all the details of being an animal, but he took it in stride.  Because it didn't matter.  Not really.  He took the soap from the bath ledge and began to rub it slowly against the cloth.  They had him tied up pretty good in that sleeping bag.  It took him a while to slip out of it.  He wondered how long he spent wrapped up like that.  He came out reeking.

            He began scrubbing the cloth vigorously against his body.  He winced when it came across his side, and he slowed.  A metal hammer definitely made a difference, especially when the person swinging it was so much stronger than Akane.  It was too bad Dr. Tofu had to leave so soon; he still hurt like hell.  But then, it didn't look like he was there to reopen his clinic.  

            He stood and reached for the towel.  _The greatest match of my life, he mused as he dried himself.  __And I lost.  He had lost matches before to stronger opponents, but these were insignificant.  They were no more than opening acts to a final, greater confrontation in the future, which he would invariably win.  But this time was different.  He didn't just lose; he was crushed.  And Akane paid the price._

            He stared at himself in the mirror.  The last thing he remembered was Akane offering herself up to save him and Mousse accepting.  Who knows what he did to her?  What he's doing now?  His heart clenched at the thought.

            The door opened and he turned away from the mirror to see Akane, stark naked except for a towel she held in front of her.  They stared at each other, and Ranma suddenly felt weary.  It was just like when they first met.  _A dream then, _he thought to himself.  _I'm not awake yet._

            And then she dropped her towel and rushed forward to wrap her arms around him.  He swayed back slightly.  _Oh.  It's one of those dreams._  But when she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, he realized that he really was awake.

            "Akane," he said.  He placed both hands on the sides of her face and tilted it up.  A million questions ran through his mind.  Are you alright?  Did he hurt you?  How did you get away?  But all those questions flew from him when he saw her happy, tear-streaked face.  "Akane."

            She nodded, smiling through her tears.  He smiled back.  She was safe and with him, and that was all that mattered.

***

            Shampoo shifted uncomfortably inside the closet.  A cramp was forming in her leg from staying crouched for so long, but she remained as she was.  There was no telling when Mousse would be back and she was still unsure of what she would do.  She would have liked to have more time to create a plan, but recent events provided her with an opportunity too good to miss.  She hoped Lin-Lin and Lan-Lan could forgive her for knocking them out and taking their parcel but it was necessary.  She was only glad that her great-grandmother wasn't there when they arrived, exhausted and dirty from a rushed journey to China and back.  She frowned.  Not that her great-grandmother had any right to get angry with her.  She had kept enough secrets for her own kin that perhaps it was Shampoo who should be getting angry with _her_.  Well, maybe she shouldn't go that far.  Maybe.

She reached off to the side to feel for the bucket of water and then to the small cage beside it.  The water was possibly her only defense against him if he decided not to listen.  But she was sure he would.  From what she had seen, he liked to toy with his victims.

            She sighed and sat down, crossing her legs beneath her.  _If he ever gets here,_ she thought sourly.  She pushed away one of the long, dark overcoats that filled the closet to make more room.  _For someone who tries to look so nice, he sure has narrow taste in clothing.  _She leaned back against the wall and relaxed.  There was a chance he wasn't going to come.  There was something of a racket the night before that left the elevator in ruins.  The same night that Dr. Tofu came in seeking treatment for his wounds.  She doubted it was just coincidence.

            Not that it would matter if he didn't come tonight, or the next night.  She would wait as long as it took.  If things continued as they were her great-grandmother and Mousse would end up killing each other, taking with them who knows how many people caught in the middle of their feud.  Ranma certainly, if he was still alive.  He wouldn't think twice about challenging Mousse to a rematch.  He probably wouldn't even think.  And the others would follow his lead, Ukyo, Akane, Ryoga, and the rest of them.  It was strange the way they would all pull together whenever one of them was in danger.  They had no problem fighting each other, but as soon as there was an external threat, they always found themselves on the same side.  She couldn't begin to count the times they had helped each other out of situations an enemy would have been glad to leave them in.  It could even be called friendship, or at least camaraderie.  

            She leaned her head back against the wall and wondered again when Mousse would arrive.  In spite of his actions, she still considered him a friend.  She didn't want to see him die, or see him kill those closest to her.  Either way she loses.  It would be best if they simply stopped fighting.  Impossible under normal circumstances, but she believed she had a way.  She felt at the packet of essence of cursed spring she kept in her shirt.  If it worked then everyone could go home, if not happy, then at least still breathing.

            She started when she heard the shower turn on.  He had somehow gotten inside without her knowing.  She opened the closet door and tentatively stuck her head out.  Discarded clothing littered the floor in a trail leading from the balcony to the bathroom.  She remembered the Elders once saying Hidden Weapons masters were the untidiest people in the world, and that if they weren't able to carry so much stuff on them they would be lost in their own refuse.  She was fairly certain they were exaggerating, but now she wasn't so sure.  

            She made her way beside the bed and waited, kicking aside a strip of linen used in binding wounds.  There were still bloodstains on them.  He'd been busy.  She wasn't sure what she was going to say to him that could possibly leave him open enough to use the cursed powder and water, and she didn't have time to think of anything.  Soon the sound of water ceased and he walked out, still dripping water with a towel wrapped around his waist and drying his long hair with smaller one.  He looked better than when she last saw him.  He no longer looked so gaunt or deathly pale, but she could see the fresh scars he received recently.  He came to a stop when he saw her, dropping the towel he held in his hands.  She couldn't read his expression as he stared at her.  He didn't show any emotion, nor did he look tense as though about to fight.

            Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, she decided to make the first move.  She stepped toward him.  "Mousse…" she started, and that was all she managed to get out when Mousse suddenly closed the distance between them.  She didn't believe anyone could have ever moved so explosively.  She wasn't even able step back before he was in front of her, driving his fist into her belly so hard she felt her feet lift from the ground.

            She fell back on her seat, the wind knocked out of her.  She was dimly aware of Mousse prowling about the room, searching for anyone else that might be hiding.  _He hit me, she thought incredulously, her eyes filling with tears as she struggled to draw breath.  _He _hit _me.__

She tried to stand up, her legs still shaky, and would have fallen back down if not for a pair of strong hands under her arms holding her up.  "I told the old woman I'd take what she did to me out on you later," said Mousse, now standing in front of her.  She could make out his face through her teary eyes.  He was smiling slightly, as though amused at her pain.  "Can you talk now?"

            She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.  "Take your time," he said, stepping away.  "There's no hurry.  We have all night."

            A chill went up her spine at those ominous words.  "Mousse," she croaked out after some effort.  "You listen to me, pl-"

            "If you're going to speak, do it in the language you know," he said, bringing his hand up.  "I can't tell you how grating it is to listen to you talk."

            She stopped, hurt by what he said.  The Mousse she knew would never have said something so cruel.  But this wasn't the Mousse she knew; she had to bring that one back.  "Alright," she said in the Amazon dialect of Chinese.  It was becoming easier to speak.  "Mousse, you must listen to me."

            "Go ahead," he said, switching to Amazon as well.  He picked up the towel he dropped and hung it around his neck.  He sat down on the edge of the bed, leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand.  

            Shampoo blinked, surprised at her suddenly cooperative audience.  "O-okay."  She stammered for a moment, unsure of where to begin.  Then she stood up straight, visibly steeling herself.  "Do you remember when you were a child, Mousse?" she asked.  "In our village?"

            He grinned broadly.  "What don't I remember," he said enthusiastically.  "The beatings, the ostracization, the murder of my family and the slow death to which I was condemned …" His grin had become malevolent as he spoke, now as humorless as a shark's.  "I remember everything."

            Shampoo fought with all her might the urge to pull out the small package of cursed essence right then and there and throw the contents all over him.  _Do it now!_ A small voice inside urged her.  _While he's still wet and he's not expecting it!  _If she was afraid before, she was terrified now.  She could faintly remember the beatings he spoke of.  He was never a strong boy, an easy target for the bullies.  Not to mention the fact that his mother had been a weakling outsider; he had been given hell for that not just by the other children but by adults as well.  But murder…  What had happened between her great-grandmother and Mousse went deeper than she knew.  And Mousse didn't blame just Cologne; he blamed the entire Amazon people for what had happened.  But she couldn't stop now.  She had come this far already, and to simply give up was not her way or the way of her people.

            "But you don't remember me," she replied.

            "You're right, I don't remember anyone like you," he said.  The grin had dropped from his face and now he looks genuinely curious.  "And I remember almost everyone from the village, and I would certainly remember the spawn of that old bitch.  Why is that?"

            She took a deep breath.  This was the crucial point.  If he didn't believe her, then she was dead.  If she made him at least a little curious, just enough to hear her out, then she may have a chance to save not only herself but also those dearest to her.  "Because you were in love with me."

            He blinked.  Whatever answer he was expecting, this was obviously not it.  His face became as inscrutable as it had when he first saw her.  "Oh?"

            Shampoo suddenly turned red.  "Well, I don't know if it was love, but you did have a crush on me," she rushed out, flustered.  "It was embarrassing actually, we were only children at the time…"  She stopped, alarmed.  His face was red and twisted into an expression that at first looked like barely contained rage.  She brought her hands up to defend herself when she realized that it wasn't rage he was trying so hard to suppress, but laughter.

            "In…love…," he managed to gasp out, laughing so hard that he fell back onto the bed.  He propped himself back up on an elbow to look at her, tears in his eyes.  "What's that you have there?"  

            Shampoo knew when to take a clue.  He wasn't going to believe her and when he was finished with his hysterics, he would kill her.  So she fell back onto Plan B.  She took the packet out of her shirt and threw the contents in a wide arc at him.  The crystallized essence of cursed spring glittered in the air for a moment before settling on Mousse's wet skin.  She saw the alarm register in his eyes in the last split second before the transformation took place.  It was quick, taking no more than a second, but it was not instantaneous as she would have expected.  And in that second, she saw much.  He fell to his knees, screaming hoarsely, and she saw that an image of himself and a duck flickering, like a reel of film that has not quite reached top speed so it was still possible to discern between individual frames.  _He's resisting it_, she realized in wonder.  But in the end, the curse won out and in his place was a white, poleaxed duck.

            Shampoo picked him up and walked over to the closet, running a hand soothingly over his head.  Not that it mattered, he seemed catatonic, but it made her feel less guilty about what she had done.  It was too bad it had to end like this, though perhaps there was no way to avoid it.  Mousse had always been stubborn, even as a child, and this hasn't changed.  But now he will have no choice but to listen.  She picked up the cage and the leash she had brought with her.  It was the only thing she could think of that would hold him, and now she had to find a place to keep him.

            "Shh," she whispered, as she slipped the leash around his neck.  That was when all hell broke loose.

***

            Before being turned into a duck, the last thing going through his mind was that of extreme hilarity.  _Weeping, creeping _Jesus, he thought.  _Who knew an Amazon could be so goddamn _funny_? _ As he sat up, he thought something along the lines of letting this one live just for the entertainment value, when he saw her throw her hand out in an arc, trailing some kind of sparkling dust.

            He couldn't react before some of the dust settled on his skin and the transformation took place.  He could feel it happening across every inch of his body.  He heard screaming as he fell to his knees, and he realized it was himself.  He fought it as best he could, and for a moment he felt he could beat it, but it washed over him like a flood, overwhelming him.  Suddenly, he was not only a duck again, but a little boy tricked by people he knew he shouldn't trust into meeting them in a place he knew he shouldn't go.  And with that came all the fear

            _our boy_

            of small children, so much more serious than that of adults,

            _our little boy_

who worry about such inane things like time and money

            _ours, yes_

when there are things in the dark, things they can't see anymore

            _ours_

because they convinced themselves they don't exist,

            _our boy_

            but the children know they are there, with big sharp teeth, always waiting…

            And then gentle hands pick him up and a hand strokes his head and the monsters disappear.  Who is it?  It is his mother and he relaxes, because he knows they can't get him if his mother is there.  She carries him, but to where?  To bed of course.  He is so tired.  

            "Shh," she whispers to him, and then she slips the leash around his neck.  He knows suddenly then that the monsters never went away.  They waited in the dark away from his sight, grinning with their big sharp teeth, for this time.  The time when they can have him back.

            _"No!"_ he screams, but it comes out as a strangled quack instead.  His neck burns, as much from the presence of a real leash as from memory, but he doesn't even feel it.  The leash is around his neck again and he sobs in abject fear as he struggles.  His mother's gentle hands change, becoming claws, forcing him toward something.  He doesn't see it at first because it is suddenly so very dark, but he sees it soon enough.  The claws were pulling him toward its gaping maw, wide open to swallow him whole.  As terrifying as it is, he keeps his eyes on it, because he knows to see all of it would be to die from unspeakable fear.  And then he sees the mouth move, forming words.

            _OUR BOY!!!  OUR LITTLE BOY!!!!_

            The little boy sees all of it.  His world shatters.

***

            Shampoo watched helplessly as Mousse disappeared into the night sky.  When she put the leash around his neck, which was now clutched, snapped, in her hand he had suddenly gone wild.  It was natural, she thought, because of course he would have realized he was about to be made a prisoner.  But when she was about to put him in the cage…  She still remembered the almost human-like cry of what she could only call terror and could not suppress a shudder.  _What happened to you, Mousse?_


	19. Part XVIII

Mousse flew as fast as he could, heedless of any of any obstacles in his path or in what direction he was going. Even as he clipped a wing against a light post and pain lanced through his now hollow bones, he didn't stop. He could never stop. Because he knew that if he did, they would have him again and this time he would never escape. They had waited ten years, they had followed him countless times across the world, had watched and planned and savored the thought of this moment just as much as he himself had for the Amazons. As he hunted the Amazons, so too had his monsters hunted him. He would never be safe again, he knew it in his wildly beating heart, but it didn't stop him from flying, unwittingly, toward a certain place. He had no safehouses set up, even after the incident at the hotel. If he had been thinking he would have kept going until he was well beyond city limits and into the forests that covered the majority of the island. There, he could recover with little worry about his enemies; he was just as familiar with the hinterlands of the world as he was with its cities. But he wasn't thinking and instead flew to a place and, more importantly, a person he instinctively felt he could trust.

"Young miss, what have you done?"

The voice was so soft that Shampoo almost didn't turn to acknowledge it. She was still shocked at the events that had transpired not half a minute, her mind reeling with questions for and past and possibilities for the future, none of them pleasant. When she turned she saw Mousse's manservant standing at the entrance to the room. He looked stricken. "What have you done?" he repeated.

Shampoo opened her mouth to speak but no words would come. She was only a little surprised to feel tears running down her face.

The old man sighed and then stood up straighter, as though he were about to face something particularly unpleasant. He reached into his coat and pulled out a phone. "You should leave," he said.

Shampoo nodded wordlessly and rushed past him, still gripping the rope and cage she had brought. "Leave the city," she heard him say as she passed and heard nothing but concern and sadness in his voice. "Don't come back."

Before Shampoo was out of earshot, she heard "Yes, sir. It is as you predicted. Yes, I will make the arrangements."

Nabiki watched Ranma practice in the yard from her room window. He moved furiously, striking at the wooden training pole before him so quickly she could barely make out his movements. He had only awoken a couple hours before, much to the visible relief of his parents and her family, with the exception of herself of course. Even so, she couldn't help but a feel a tickle in the back of her throat at seeing how happy her younger sister was, arm in arm with Ranma, supposedly to help him navigate the stairs when he first decided to come down. Besides Nabiki, Happosai also seemed unfazed when he saw Ranma. He simply sighed, looking and sounding even older than his actual age, and retired to the porch with his pipe. However, Ranma hadn't spent more than twenty minutes quietly reassuring his tearful mother and father that he was fine, no he wasn't hurt, there was no need for a trip to the hospital, that he wasn't hungry. He had gently extricated himself from Akane, who looked more than a little reluctant to leave his side, and had since then been pounding on the training device nonstop.

Nabiki yawned and stretched. Ranma was still attacking as furiously as he was an hour ago and wasn't showing any sign of stopping or even slowing down. Just watching him was making her tired. She stepped away from the window and the sounds of Ranma's shouts as his fists and feet connected with the wood and went downstairs to help herself to the hot tea Kasumi made every night at this time. She took a tall glass, more than she usually drank. The sky was just turning to twilight and she knew it was going to be a long night. She wasn't much for detective work, but she wasn't simply going to stand idle while events passed her by. The least she could do was get a general idea of the environment using the information she gathered, and if she was lucky she may even uncover a few answers. Not that she would know what to do with them even if she got them. She was no fighter; she was a thinker, though at times she wished she had become at least somewhat proficient in a martial art so she wouldn't feel so helpless.

She avoided her family and the Saotomes. She didn't feel like talking, though she probably didn't have to worry about that. Relief at having Ranma back was replaced by apprehension. They could see he was preparing for a rematch, but were uncertain about how they should take it. Mousse was different from any opponent Ranma had faced so far; she wouldn't be surprised if her father and Genma tried to join him if the two ever fought again. By the time she returned to her place at the window, Ranma was gone and the pole was broken midway up the shaft. There was no sign of the other half from she was. She sighed and took a sip of her still hot tea, burning her lips and tongue slightly. Ranma looked to be itching for another bout with Mousse, and while she could be no true judge when it came to matters of combat between two boys with superhuman powers, it seemed that Ranma had recovered more quickly and completely than Mousse. In another fight Ranma may well win and be disinclined to show any sort of mercy toward his enemy. Hopefully Mousse would have enough sense not to seek Ranma out and Akane enough sense not to divulge where Mousse was staying.

For her own part Nabiki was maintaining silence about the whole affair. It was bad enough that Akane knew what she had done; if anyone else found out, to say that she would be in trouble would be an enormous understatement. In his state there was no telling how Ranma would react, to speak nothing of her father. It would be better to seem uninvolved and work in the background.

Nabiki sighed and sat at her desk, scanned her notes for a moment, then swept them aside in frustration. She was a firm believer in the power of self-interest. If she had something someone wanted, then she could control or at least influence them. It worked well enough with Kuno; she had pictures of his 'pig-tailed goddess,' he had money. Each party walked away happy. In this case, what each party wanted the life of the other, something she couldn't and wouldn't give. Mousse wants to kill Cologne and Shampoo, at least; Cologne wants to kill Mousse; Ranma wants to at the very least fight Mousse again, and would likely kill him if given the chance; there was no telling where Dr. Tofu factored in to any of this, but it was apparent he also wanted Mousse dead; even her father and Genma would likely kill him if the opportunity arises. She could do nothing.

She let out her breath in a huff and stood up again to retrieve her glass from the window ledge. It was dark enough outside that she barely had enough time to draw back when a white object came hurtling through the open window, striking the glass and spilling its contents all over it, and dropping to the floor with an audible thud. She yelped and stumbled back, pulling the lamp cord from the socket in her fall, and plunged the room into darkness. She would have fallen to the floor if not for her desk and she leaned against it, heart pounding. She thought she could hear the flutter of wings as the thing passed her, but now she could hear nothing.

She moved to replace the plug back into the socket when she heard movement, followed by a slow, hoarse expiration of breath. A thrill of fear went through her as she froze. She was almost afraid to look but forced herself anyway. The room was too dark to see anything. There was another breath, this time it seemed to hitch, and more movement, drawing closer to her. Fear turned to terror, and she frantically jabbed the plug at the socket, missing several times before finally getting it in. If she had made a list of things she had expected to see when the lights went on, Mousse kneeling on the floor of her bedroom naked, shivering, arms wrapped around himself, and tears rolling down his face would not have been on it.

"Please," he said so softly she had to strain to hear. "Turn on the light… it's so dark… please…"

Ranma let out a long breath as he settled into the bath for the second time that day, washing away the sweat from his impromptu training session. He gasped at the sharp pain when the wound on his side came into contact with the water. It would be a while before he recovered completely; the last fight took too much out of him and there was no telling when he would be at his fighting best. Not that his best was good enough.

He stared at the opposite wall. He had hoped to be exhausted to the point that thought would be impossible, that at least for a while he wouldn't have to dwell on Mousse. It wasn't just that Mousse crushed him. It wasn't that Mousse would have killed him if it weren't for the intervention of his friends. It was the fact that he wasn't sure if he should fight Mousse again.

Ranma submerged himself under the water. Akane told him everything, after they had gotten appropriately dressed and an awkward moment of embarrassed sidelong glances. How Mousse was a complete gentleman, about how he wanted Shampoo instead of her, about how Ranma was simply unlucky, about how Mousse wouldn't bother them if he didn't go seeking a fight. And therein lay the problem. Honor demanded that he go and face Mousse again, and if not the honor of his school then at least his pride wouldn't allow him to simply concede defeat. He knew he should be chomping at the bit, raging at his own inadequacy, and still outside pounding away at what was left of the training pole. But Akane was safe, and everything paled in comparison to that. And he learned something about Mousse during their fight. He was more than just a dangerous warrior, he was a killer. If Mousse wanted him dead then Ranma was fairly certain he would be. Mousse would come at him from an angle he couldn't defend himself against; a hidden bomb, poison in his food, a gunshot in a crowded street. There were no rules in his world and no limitations. Everyone close to him would be in danger. Akane would be in danger. He would have to kill Mousse, and while he was certain he would take a life to protect his loved ones, when it came to Mousse he wasn't at all certain whether he actually could. Vendetta seemed to be Mousse's calling, and if he got in his way again he had no doubt Mousse would come seeking not only him but everyone around him, including and especially the young woman he played host to the night before. Could he take the chance of fighting Mousse again and gamble with the lives of those dearest to him?

Ranma emerged from the water and finished his bath at a brisk pace. In spite of his uncertainties something would still have to be done about Mousse, of course. He couldn't simply abandon the Amazons to Mousse, even if they could take care of themselves. If just for the techniques that saved his life time and again, he felt he owed them. But there would be time to think later; Mousse looked in worse shape than he was from their fight and chances are he was still recovering. It would be a while before they saw the likes of him again. And who knows, maybe he was weakened to the point that the old hag could take him out by herself. He couldn't decide which notion was more unsatisfying to him, avoiding Mousse out of fear or merely weakening him to the point that he could be more easily dispatched by the crone.

The thought must have left a sour expression on his face as he stepped out into the hall because Nabiki, clutching something to her person and barely managing to avoid running into him, gave him a single wide-eyed glance before hurrying to her room. Before he had the chance to apologize, she had already slammed the door shut behind her. He blinked. That was the only time he could ever recall Nabiki looking harried. From what he had seen, she seemed to be coping with the change in circumstances better than anyone else in her family. Better than anyone in Nerima, possibly. He shook his head and continued to his room, already dismissing the incident from his mind. _Probably just came out behind on one of her bets or something._ _Nothing to get worked up over._

Nabiki shut the door and immediately pressed her ear against it, listening for anything that might sound like footsteps coming her way. There would be all sorts of awkward moments if Ranma were to walk in just then, followed by equally awkward questions, assuming she survived being at the center of another fight between him and Mousse. She stole a glance at the boy sitting on the edge of her bed, wrapped in a blanket. Then again, in the state he was in, it might not have been much of a fight. He had stopped shaking and the tears had stopped flowing, but now he stared bleakly at the floor, oblivious to the urgency she displayed. Whatever happened to him, it was bad enough to leave him more hollow and ghostlike than after his fight with Ranma. Whatever fearsome will that forced him to keep fighting, even when grievously injured and poisoned, was crushed.

Satisfied no one was coming, Nabiki approached Mousse slowly, first by standing directly in front of him, and then touching him on the shoulder when he didn't acknowledge her presence. He started and looked up, eyes wide and just beginning to focus on her. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He shrugged the hand on his shoulder off. "No," he said, and turned his gaze back to the floor. "I don't think I am."

Nabiki waited a few moments. "What happened?" she asked when he didn't continue. "Mousse?"

"I was careless," he said. "Stupid."

She waited, and when he didn't say more she said, "How were you careless, Mousse?"

He shook his head, as though trying to clear it. "The amazon was waiting for me. Shampoo. She was in my room. I should have killed her, but she was babbling about something and…"

He shuddered. "She cursed me," he said. "And she tried to put me in the box. Like the Elders did. Just like them."

He fell silent and his gaze fell to the floor. She knelt in front of him and placed her hands on either side of his face. He started at the contact and looked up at her with wide eyes. "Tell me what the Elders did to you, Mousse," she said. She gently ran a thumb along the fresh scar under his eye and he winced.

"No," he said immediately. He clasped his hands around her wrists but didn't attempt to move. "It was a mistake to come here, I've put us both in danger." His eyes flickered to the door, as though they would come bursting through at any moment. "I can't-"

Nabiki pulled his face around until he was once more looking at her and only her. "Please," she said, in a voice that was as close to pleading as she had ever used.

She didn't dare blink as he stared at her. They remained that way for many long moments, until finally his hands dropped. "Alright," he said. "I'll tell you."

"Thank you," she said, dropping her own hands and letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Where to begin?" he muttered, half to himself.

"The beginning," she replied.

"The beginning," he repeated with an empty laugh. "That would be a good place to start, wouldn't it?" He took a deep breath. "I guess it begins with my parents…"

They hated him and now he knew why. He saw it in the marketplace, when his mother tried to buy flour for their evening meal. When she protested that the price was too high, the vendor called her a liar, a foreigner, and a few words he didn't know. He recognized the look on the vendor's face, though. He had seen the same expression on every single bully the village had to offer. The adults were no better than their children. So when Mousse faced the vendor's son in the Boy's Tournament, he saw no reason to defeat him as quickly as he did the others.

Mousse swung the length of knotted rope in a lazy circle, waiting for his opponent to pick up the wooden sword, even though Li had long since passed the point of trying to attack. Every attempt to do so since the beginning of the match resulted in painful disarmament followed by a sharp strike to another part of the body, though never in a place where a point could be scored. Thus, five minutes into the match there was still a tie and the Elder officiating could not call a winner.

Li was crying openly now, though he was trying to hold in his sobs. Both his hurts and his public humiliation were too much for him, but the rules forbade him from giving up. He had to pick up the sword and fight.

Li bent down and slowly reached for the sword with his bruised and bloody hand, clearly anticipating another painful jolt. However, instead of repeating the process Mousse lashed out with the rope and struck Li three times in succession on the upper arm, thigh, and chest. Li fell to the ground howling.

"And the winner is Mu Tzu," said Lo Hsin.

Mousse bowed toward the still bawling Li and then turned to bow toward Lo Hsin. The Elder glared at him before barely inclining her head in response. He bowed deeply to cover his smile. He glanced at Li to see him still on the ground, curled into a ball with his father hovering over him looking close to tears himself. Mousse felt a savage satisfaction at the sight and walked off the fighting ground with his head held high.

The rest of the tournament passed quickly with Mousse as the winner. He didn't have to do to the rest of his opponents what he did to Li. Most were too frightened to put up much of a challenge; the few brave ones were defeated outright and left crying in the dust. When Lo Hsin announced his victory the crowd had already started to disperse, obviously dissatisfied with the outcome. More than a few muttered amongst themselves and glared at him over their shoulders. But their approval meant nothing to him. It was the prize, an entire quarter section of cured wild boar stuffed into a jute sack, which drew him. Turned into soup or stew, it would feed him and his mother for a month. And she needed it more than any of the other villagers. She was so weak these days.

Mousse loaded the prize into the handcart he had brought. He had gotten a few strange looks as well as sniggers as he pushed the cart next to the table on which the boar had been placed. Now no one offered to help him with it and he didn't ask. He hummed happily to himself as he turned around to depart the nearly empty village square for his own house.

"Mousse," said Lo Hsin from behind him.

He stopped pushing the cart, turned around and bowed. "Yes, Honored Elder?" A terrible thought occurred to him. She was going to take his prize.

"Congratulations on your victory," she said.

"Thank you, Honored Elder," replied Mousse. He was still wary, as the Elders rarely made small talk with anyone, much less a near-pariah such as himself.

"It is not usual for children your age to use the rope in a tourney," Lo Hsin continued. "A difficult weapon to master for sure."

"My father taught me how to use it," said Mousse.

"I know, child. You wield it with as much skill as he did when he was twice your age. It was a shame to lose such a skilled warrior. Do you think he would be proud of you?"

Mousse had to force himself to relax his jaw. "Yes. Honored Elder."

"May I see your weapon?"

She said it politely enough, but he knew it wasn't a request. Instead of answering, he produced the rope he used for the tournament and handed it up to her. She took it by the knotted end and let the rest coil to the ground.

"You coated it with resin," she said, running a thumb over the hardened mass. Almost all of it was covered with a thick layer of tree sap, worn smooth through constant use. It was also much heavier than any of the weapons used by the other children. He must have spent months out in the forest finding the proper trees for this purpose.

"It needed more weight in the end," replied Mousse. "It wouldn't work if I didn't do that. Honored Elder."

"I see," she said, dropping the knot where it fell to the ground with an audible _thud_. She gave him a pointed look. "I shall have to confer with my sisters about changing the rules of the Boys' Tourney."

"Why?" Mousse asked. "Nobody cheated."

Lo Hsin considered him a moment. "You're cleverer than your father as well, when he was your age. You must get it from your mother. Despite all her other faults, at least she is not an idiot."

She watched as he balled his hands into fists and his jawed tightened. "So that was it then? Why you punished Li, because his father insulted your mother?"

Mousse, realizing he gave too much away, unclenched his hands. "I didn't know it was him. I don't see very well."

"Of course, I haven't forgotten. Though I imagine your other senses are sharper for it. Surely you heard what you were doing to Li and his father?"

Mousse looked her in the eye, unblinking. "If I was doing anything wrong, then you would have stopped the match."

She didn't reply and instead leaned down so that her face was floating mere inches above his own. Her eyes bored into his, as though searching for something. The effect was unnerving; he held his ground more out of reflexive defiance than out of bravery. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until she suddenly backed away.

"Take your prize home," she said. "I'm sure you are looking forward to tonight's meal."

Mousse watched her stalk away and kept his eyes on her until she disappeared behind one of the many houses clustered around the square. Only then did he stow the rope away in his sleeve and grasp the cart's handles with shaking hands.

When he arrived at his house at the edge of the village he saw that his mother was not alone. Two extra pairs of shoes, one large and one small, were placed beside the door. His steps faltered for a moment, before turning him around the house to the backyard. He opened the gate and pushed the cart though, scattering the few chickens they owned, and closed it behind him before taking the meat to the curing shed his father built not long before his death. He dumped the sack out of the cart and then took a deep breath. There was only one reason other people would be at his house. Someone came to make sure he would to answer for his actions barely half an hour ago. And while he was certain there would be little in the way of physical punishment, he might get one of those disappointed looks from his mother when she hears her son had hurt some other boy. Those were more painful than anything any bully had ever done to him.

However, instead of Li and his father berating his mother over his behavior, there was pinch-faced Hou Huidai and her equally pinch-faced daughter Huifen having tea with her in the kitchen. While not a disreputable family, the Hou were known throughout the village for their mean-spiritedness and their ability to hold a grudge. Mousse had been on the receiving end of taunts and beatings from a group of Hou boys in the past. These stopped when Delun, the largest and strongest of the group, was found one morning naked, crying, and hanging from a tree by his ankle in front of his family home. He never explained how it happened, but from then on Mousse was left alone by the Hou. So Mousse was unsure of what to make of Huidai, quite possibly the future matriarch of the Hou, sharing tea with his mother.

"Your son was magnificent at the tournament, Gu-mi," she said with the only smile on her face Mousse had ever seen. "It's such a shame your condition keeps you in your home. And with only Mu Tzu here… Ah, and here is the champion now."

Gu-mi turned from where she was nodding and smiling at Huidai's praises, clearly nervous and perplexed at the sudden visit, to see her son standing at the doorway. But even as she beamed at him, now genuinely happy, to Mousse it seemed she had grown even paler and thinner than when he had seen her this morning. He wanted their guests gone now more than anything.

"Mu Tzu-" she began.

"Huifen, go play outside with Mu Tzu," said Huidai. Huifen looked at Mousse then back at her mother, distaste clear on her face. But after only a moment's hesitation she took her doll from the kitchen table and flounced toward him. She grabbed his wrist and half-dragged, half-lead him around his house to the backyard.

"What are you doing?" demanded Mousse, more surprised than angry. She was two years older than him and bigger, which made it difficult for him to keep up her pace or pull away.

"Shut up," she said. "You have to listen to me, now."

"What-" He didn't finish as she suddenly stopped and whirled around. She thrust a fist at his face and he flinched, expecting a hit, but she stopped a few inches from his nose. Hanging from the fist was a red ribbon.

"This is for you," she said.

Mousse stepped back. "I don't want it."

Huifen let out a frustrated huff and rolled her eyes. "You have to take it. We can't be married unless you wear it."

Mousse blinked. He had never before thought about marriage to someone from the village. It was the most unattractive notion anyone had ever given him. "No."

Huifen rolled her eyes again. "Don't be stupid. Mother says we're going to get married and there's nothing you or an outsider like your mother can do about it."

"I'm not going to marry you."

"I don't want to marry you either," she shot back. "But we don't have a choice. Wear the ribbon."

Mousse stared at the ribbon Huifen thrust back at him and then at the doll she clutched to herself in the other hand. He looked at her angry, disgusted face and smiled. "That's a pretty doll you have."

Five minutes later Huidai and her daughter left the Sun home. Huidai bid a brief, stiff farewell to Gu-mi and dragged her wailing daughter with her back toward the village. Mousse stood beside his mother and watched as they disappeared around the bend, twirling a small wooden arm between the fingers of one hand hidden in a sleeve.

"Did you like Huifen, Mu Tzu?" asked his mother when they were out of sight.

"No," came the immediate reply. "Do I have to marry her, mother?"

She knelt so she could look her son in the eyes. "You don't have to marry anyone you don't want, Mu Tzu," she said. "It is your choice, no one else's."

He nodded, relieved. "I'll go get food for dinner. You should be resting, mother."

She smiled. "You'll have to tell me about your tournament over dinner. Did you have fun?"

Mousse smiled back. "A lot."


End file.
